


The Lemonade Stand

by sitabethel



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Altershipping, Antagoshipping, Blueshipping, Citronshipping, Dangershipping, Deathshipping, F/F, F/M, Fetishshipping, Geminshipping, Gemshipping, Heartshipping, M/M, Monarchshipping - Freeform, Necroshipping, Powershipping, Puffshipping, Puzzleshipping, Tendershipping, Thiefshipping, Timidshipping, Toonshipping - Freeform, Trashshipping, Vengeanceshipping, Yamishipping, casteshipping - Freeform, tornshipping - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:39:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 57
Words: 108,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4743236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sitabethel/pseuds/sitabethel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a cache for drabbles and one-shots. The Lemonade Stand is for lemons, and the Cotton Candy Stand is fluff. I try to keep the ship names in the chapters for easy browsing. </p><p>The first one, of course, is Deathshipping.</p><p>///CLOSED FOR NEW PROMPTS///</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. FORGET-ME-NOT (Deathshipping)

Ryou loved walking through the forest at dusk because it frightened him.  The cold sank into his bones, making all the old wounds from the Ring-Spirit ache and throb, but he didn’t mind the discomfort.  It reminded him that he lived.  Ryou stuffed his hands in the pockets of his black hoodie and listened to the crunch of his feet beating against frost-coated leaves.  

 

Dark, deep shadows covered the forest floor, and in these times Ryou felt the horror of the woods raise the fine hairs on the back of his neck.  He savored the thrill of it, fear mixed with adrenaline mixed with a longing for vampires, werewolves, or boogeymen.  He loved being scared, curled beneath a blanket with a horror novel, snug on the sofa with a scary movie, or walking through a dark woods as the light bled onto the horizon.  

 

A twig snapped behind him.  Ryou’s heart beat hard and fast in his chest as he turned around.  He expected shadows, and the exhale of his own breath, and the foolish relief one felt when realizing the sound was nothing more than a jump-scare.

 

Ryou’s nutmeg-brown eyes widened when he saw the cloaked figure standing behind him, watchful and predatory.  

 

“Marik?” Ryou asked, more than a little confused.

 

“In a sense, but not anymore, not truly.”

 

Ryou swallowed, throat clicking.  “Weren’t you lost to the Shadows?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How did you come back?”

 

Marik’s smile was a gash carved into his face; his lilac eyes flashed like a mountain lion’s.  “I suppose it was fate.”  

 

Ryou smiled, big and sweet.  “Yes.  That seems to be the way of things.”

 

Mariku took a step forwards.  “I’m going to kill you.”

 

“You think so?”  Ryou took half a step back, baiting the giant shadow watching him.

 

“Yes.  I want to hear you scream.”

 

“Well . . .” Ryou continued to smile, heart still drumming out a dark, strong beat in his chest.  He was terrified, and he loved it.  Marik was better than a vampire and better than a werewolf - more dangerous, and more familiar.   An intimate horror that Ryou remembered from when the “good” half of Marik controlled Ryou’s mind.  Back then, Ryou had felt the presence of the submerged hatred buried in the back of Marik’s mind.  He had felt the presence of Marik’s darker half in a way the Ring-Spirit never did because Ryou and Marik’s shadow had both been imprisoned in their respective subconsciouses.  

 

Ryou took another half-step backwards.  “If you want to hear me scream - you’ll have to catch me.”

 

Ryou pivoted and sprang through the woods.  He heard the crashing of saplings and twigs behind him, but stayed well ahead of the dark hunter.  Branches cut into Ryou’s face and pulled at his hair, but Ryou was smaller and faster and he knew the woods well.  He ran until a stitch bit fierce into his side and the breath tore at his lungs.  Risking a glance over his shoulder, he realized Marik had fallen behind, furious and cursing at the roots that slowed his feet.

 

Ryou laughed.  “You’re too slow!”  He stopped, standing on a bed of oakleaves, moss, and creeping thyme.  “Catch me,” Ryou taunted, flushed and panting from running in the chill air.  

 

And Marik did, tackling Ryou to his back and pinning both slender, white wrists over Ryou’s head.  “You did that on purpose.”

 

Ryou looked up at the darker Marik gasping for breath above him. Their words floated out of their mouths in white clouds.  “Of course I did.”  

 

“Why?” Marik growled.  

 

Ryou wrapped his legs around Marik’s waist, hiking up a little to ensure that Marik felt the pressure of Ryou’s body.  “Because this is all part of my game.”

 

Marik stared at Ryou, trying to puzzle him together.  “What game?”  

 

“The game to seduce you,” Ryou said with a angel’s voice, so clear and sweet that one would have thought he’d uttered a prayer and not a proposition.  

 

“What?” Marik’s voice was low and throated and more than a little confused.  

 

Ryou ground his hips up again, slow and consistent.  He enjoyed the unfocused glaze that fogged the lavender eyes staring at him.   When he spoke, he accented every word with a slow emphasis.  “Seduce you.  I want you to fuck me.”  

 

“What?” Marik asked a second time, still not understanding, not used to anything other than violence.

 

“Fuck me.”  Ryou continued to move his hips, setting up a slow, deliberate rhythm.  “And I promise you’ll hear me scream, just like you wanted.”  

 

Marik still panted small dragon-puffs into the ever growing night.  The more Ryou rocked up into Marik’s body, the harder the dark spirit clutched to Ryou’s wrists until he growled and bent low to Ryou’s face.  A larger cut from a tree branch made a trickle of blood weep down Ryou’s right cheek.  Marik reached out his tongue and licked Ryou’s cheek clean.

 

“Kiss me,” Ryou whispered, still hiking into Marik’s groin.

 

Marik gave another growl in protest, but his tongue slipped into Ryou’s mouth.  The tang of copper invaded Ryou’s tastebuds from the taste of blood, but this too was familiar, courtesy of the Ring-Spirit.  Marik’s kisses surprised Ryou.  Gentle, deep, and sensuous, Ryou would have never imagined that murder and agony turned flesh could kiss like a boy in love.

 

Ryou lay on the forest floor, shivering from cold, but refusing to interrupt what was happening.  They broke for air, and Ryou used the opportunity to whisper, “my pants.”

 

Marik’s eyes flicked down as if he didn’t understand Ryou’s language for a moment, but then he used his free hand, the one not binding Ryou, to unfasten Ryou’s pants.  He had to let go of Ryou's wrist to pull the pants off, but Ryou didn’t try to escape.  He merely kicked off his shoes so he could help pull his jeans away from his legs and then help Marik do the same with his khakis.

 

“Put your fingers in my mouth,” Ryou instructed.

 

Again Marik hesitated before complying, sticking pointer and mid finger into Ryou’s mouth.  Ryou sucked and coated both fingers with saliva, tickling Marik’s fingertips with his tongue as he did it.  When Ryou pulled his mouth away, he didn’t need to tell Marik what to do - both fingers immediately found their way into Ryou’s lower body.  

 

Ryou grunted at the intrusion, but just as with all discomfort, Ryou relished it because it reminded him that he lived.  Ryou reached into his hoodie pocket, pulling out a tiny packet.  “Here.  Use this.”

 

Marik squinted at the packet, trying to read the label in the last shards of sunset light.  “Why do you even have this?”

 

Ryou smiled again.  “Fate, I suppose.  Last time Yugi and everyone went to the movies, Honda tossed it to me as a joke and I shoved it into my pocket and forgot about it - until now.”  

 

Marik snorted and tore open the little packet of lube and coated his erection, hard and full thanks to Ryou’s grinding and their kissing.  Once he was as saturated as the tiny packet allowed, He shifted his hips and pressed inside of Ryou.

 

Ryou screamed, as loud as he wanted, the forest was theirs and theirs alone.  

 

“Scream again.”  Marik pulled out and shoved himself back in, and Ryou gave him the piercing shout that he wanted.  

 

“Again!”

 

After half a dozen shouts, Marik paused, giving Ryou a chance to catch his breath.  He leaned close.  “Does it hurt?”  The question was more out of morbid curiosity than concern, but Ryou didn't mind that fact.

 

A little puff of breath floated into the air as Ryou laughed.  “No more than last time.”  

 

Marik frowned.  "That was them," he said, referring to their other halves.

 

"It was them," Ryou agreed, "and us."

 

Marik grinned, thrusting again and making Ryou call out.  "So you were there?  That time in Battle City before everything fell apart?"

 

"Yes." Ryou grunted between thrusts, panting loud and noisy.  "And so were you. I felt you, in Marik's mind.  Ah - there!"  Ryou interrupted himself when one of Marik's thrusts hit his prostate.

 

Marik adjusted his angle, and Ryou wailed in wanton disregard.

 

"This is better." Marik chuckled.  "I get you to myself, no jackass thief."

 

Ryou couldn't answer.  He screamed, and groaned,  and clawed at Marik's back with zero consideration to Marik's scars.  Marik didn't seem to mind the pain.

 

"I'm still going to kill you."

 

Ryou snorted, forcing himself to speak between moans and curses.  "If you ... _oh fuck_ \- do anything - aaaah, ah - other than - mmmmmm yes .... yes - ah, pass out - _oh yes_ \- after this - yes - you didn't, didn't, fuck me h-hard enough - ahh fuck!  Fuck yes!"

 

Marik laughed, moving faster.  "Sounds like I'm fucking you just right."

 

"Yes!" Ryou screamed, an exclamation more than an agreement.  His legs shook on either side of him, and he grabbed himself, timing his strokes with Marik's thrusts.  "Marik!"

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hearing his name made the darker Marik moan.  He aimed for Ryou's prostate and watched his lover unraveled before his eyes, cum shooting onto their stomachs in spurts.

 

Marik felt his own orgasm building.  He leaned closer to Ryou, keeping his thrusts quick and shallow.  His back burned from Ryou's nails, the scratches stinging from sweat,  but the pain only sweetened the pleasure and Marik closed his eyes as the thrill of climax swallowed him whole.

 

A strange wave of euphoria seeped into his mind once the physical pleasure subsided, a soothing contentment he hadn't felt when he shared his body with his weaker half.  In a deranged haze of affection, Marik's lips searched for Ryou's. He poured his entire being into the kisses, trying to share himself in a way he didn't think possible.

 

When it was over, Marik found himself curling on top of Ryou's chest and falling asleep.

 

"Told you," Ryou whispered into Marik's hair as the conscious world faded from existence.

 

When Marik woke up it was dawn and the woods was gray and quiet.  A fire burned beside him, and Ryou's hoodie lay over his shoulders like a blanket, but there was no Ryou to be seen.  

 

Marik sat up, scratching his scalp and rubbing sleep out of his eyes.  He shivered, but the fire kept off most of the cold. He noticed a bouquet of small, bluish flowers with a note tied around the stems.

 

Curious, Marik unrolled the note and read it.

 

_Marik,_

_I'd invite you back to my place for breakfast, but for the sake of self preservation, I figured it'd be safer if I slipped away.  I often walk these woods at dusk, however, so maybe our paths will cross again sometime._

_The flowers are called forget-me-nots.  I stole them off of a grave in a nearby cemetary for you._

_Your eager victim,_

_Ryou Bakura_

 

Marik smiled, running calloused fingertips along the script as if it were brail.  He picked up the flowers and studied them, tracing his fingers over the cluster of petals with the same care he'd given the letter.

  
An odd feeling tickled the pit of Marik's stomach.   He mistook it for hunger, but even after he killed and skinned a rabbit, cooking it on a spit over the fire Ryou provided, the strange feeling lingered.  He wasn't sure what it was, the feeling, but he knew he was going to stay, haunting the forest like a ghost, until fate provided him with another encounter with Ryou. 


	2. Puffshipping/Gym

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Puffshipping - "They spend 60 minutes in the gym, but 45 of that is showering (and Jou is freaking out because they're gonna get caught they're SO gonna get caught RYOU THIS IS A PUBLIC PLACE)"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt given to me by "a" in the comments. I hope this is good enough. It's not a full lemon, because I couldn't suspend my disbelief enough to make it a full lemon (they really, REALLY, would get caught if they tried it). Have a gym shower lime instead. I wrote this quick, so if there are typos, please let me know so I can fix them.  
> \---

Fifteen minutes on the stair-stepper and the breath left Jounouchi’s mouth in short puffs.  Little beads of sweat rolled down his neck and he was about to move on to weights when a beep interrupted the playlist on his phone.  Both annoyed by, and grateful for, the distraction, Jounouchi checked the text message on his phone.

 

_Meet me in the locker room._

 

A crooked grin twisted Jounouchi’s mouth when he saw Ryou’s message.  Jounouchi sighed and stepped of the machine, giving up on weights.  There was only ever one reason Ryou wanted to meet in the locker room.  Jounouchi glanced around the gym.  The only other person was an old man reading a magazine as he slowly peddled an exercise bike.  Jounouchi exhaled a sigh of relife.  At least the gym wasn’t crowded.  Still, the nerves twisted in Jounouchi’s stomach at the thought of getting caught.

 

He made his way through the gym proper and down a hallway to the men’s locker room.  It always felt humid in the tiled room because of the sauna and hot tub and Jounouchi towled as much sweat off of his body before wandering to the very back area where he knew Ryou waited.  

 

Ryou stood naked in the shower, his up pinned up in a twist of white and a stream of water flowing down his white, white form.  They’d been working out together for about three years now and, although he didn’t have the frame to build bulk, he’d developed a nice cut to the muscles that did show through his slender limbs.

 

Jounouchi watched for a moment as the water flow traced out all the curves of Ryou’s body.  Then he remembered why he was there and felt a need to hurry things along before more people showed up.

 

“What did you want, Ryou?” Jou asked, knowing exactly what Ryou wanted.

 

“Someone to wash my back,” Ryou said.  He never took a direct path to his goal.  Ryou liked to play, easing a situation to where he wanted it, although Jounouchi already knew how it’d end.

 

Nonetheless, Jounouchi took the bait, letting the game play out.  He slipped off his tank-top and workout pants and hung them on on a hook near the shower entrance.  The showers were all open in a single, tiled room.  Once Mai told him that the woman had separate stalls with curtains for privacy and Jounouchi wished it was the same for the men.  Privacy was something Jounouchi coveted at the moment as he soaped up his hands and ran them across the warm, wet skin of Ryou’s back.

 

Ryou arched, sighing in appreciation.  “Thanks.  I can never quite reach.”

 

“Yeah, you must be sore from all the weights you lifted.”  Jounouchi snorted.

 

Ryou smiled, ignoring Jounouchi’s irony.  “It’s my rest day.”

 

“We’re going to get caught.”

 

Ryou spun, slamming Jounouchi against the tiled wall and brushing his nose up Jounouchi’s neck.  “Not if we’re quick and quiet we won’t.”

 

“Only a matter of time before we’re caught,” Jounouchi muttered, but there was no strength in his words as Ryou nibbled on Jou’s earlobe.    

 

“I can’t help it.”  Ryou pulled back, brown eyes studying Jounouchi.  “I’m really glad you moved into a place with Yugi, and it’s fun for everyone to hang out, but …” Ryou shrugged.  “We haven’t had any alone time since then.”

 

It was true.  Yugi never wanted to go anywhere alone and always asked Jounouchi to go with him - which of course Jou did, he’d never turn down his friend, but it did make it hard to find time to fool around when one always had a chaperone.  So, although he was anxious about someone walking in, Jounouchi gave no further protest when Ryou’s hand slid down his belly and reached for his already hardening cock.

 

The water made his skin slick enough that Ryou’s hand felt incredible as it glided up and down.  Jounouchi bit his lower lip, holding in a groan because he didn’t want it echoing off of the shower walls.  

 

Ryou sucked on Jounouchi’s neck as his hand moved faster.  Jounouchi’s own hand began to wander, across Ryou’s shoulders, down the curve of his spine, squeezing his ass, and finally finding his erection and pumping Ryou in return.  

 

A small noise skipped out of Ryou’s throat and Jounouchi’s heart jumped at the sound - from both arousal and fear.  Nervous as he was, the possibility of getting caught added an element of excitement to the moment.  Jounouchi bucked into Ryou’s hand, wishing it was Ryou’s mouth, or better yet, his entire body that Jounouchi could thrust into.  

 

Jounouchi’s grip on Ryou’s shaft became loose, his pumps grew slow.  He couldn’t focus on anything else but the tightness around his own cock and and the mounting pleasure stabbing through him.  

 

“Shit,” Jou swore, grabbed Ryou’s back with his free hand as he came onto the tiled floor.  The shower water washed the thick pearls of semen down the drain, conveniently removing any evidence without them having to clean up.  

 

Ryou pressed Jounouchi a little harder against the wall.  He pulled Jounouchi’s hand away, grabbing his own cock and pumping fast, allowing the tip to rub against Jounouchi’s belly.   Jounouchi felt sheepish for not finishing his lover.  To compensate, he sucked on Ryou’s throat and pinched the small, hard bud of Ryou’s right nipple.  

 

Ryou struggled to keep himself silent.  His knees buckled as he gasped and Jounouchi helped hold Ryou upright as he trembled and came towards the shower drain.  Ryou exhaled, his face the shade of a bouquet of roses.

 

Jounouchi grinned at how cute Ryou looked after an orgasm.  He kissed Ryou’s forehead.  “This is a public place, y’know.”

 

"So you keep reminding me."  Ryou turned off the shower and grabbed a towel from another hook to dry off.  He smiled.  “Well, we’ve put out time in the gym today.  Let’s get ice cream.”

 

Jounouchi sighed and shook his head, but he knew they’d go.  He wasn’t really capable of saying no to Ryou.   

 

 


	3. Vengeanceshipping/ Kingpin!AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt from "a"
> 
> "(...) let's go for a really obscure one... how about Vengeanceshipping (Bandit Keith/Marik Ishtar)? he usually likes his boys pretty (white hair optional (not actually optional))"
> 
> Hey - you said white hair not actually optional, so I took that literally :)

Keith marched through the automatic, double glass doors. The bright, hot silence of the outside world gave way to flashes of artificial light, air conditioning, and a thousand noises. The clink of coins, the sha-shunk of slot machine levers, whistles, bells, last calls, and an entropy of conversation buzzed around Keith as he marched through the casino in search of Ishtar. He wouldn’t be below with the booze and cigarette smoke and geriatrics wasting their last moments in front of spinning slots. No, Ishtar thought himself too good for the world he’d created of mindless addiction. He would be on the second floor, watching from the glass office that loomed above the gamblers and drinkers like an outcropping of Mount Olympus.

 

Getting past security was a matter of flashing a certain ring - it wasn’t Keith’s ring. He’d stolen it off his last mark, but the guards stepped aside without question. He smirked as he followed the red carpet up to Ishtar’s personal office.

 

Marik Ishtar sat on top of a black leather sofa, champagne flute in one hand, cigar in the other. He wore plum colored satin with gold accessories that brought the gold color out of his hair. Beside him lay some freak-show albino. Long, white hair spilled over the side of the couch. The man had his legs tossed carelessly over the sofa arm, feet dangling as he played a game on his cell phone. Like the sofa, the albino wore all black leather, but unlike the sofa, he was also adorned in an excessive amount of gold. Bracelets, rings, chains, he looked like a porcelain doll Marik had dressed up.

 

Neither one gave a glance towards Keith, so he walked forward until he stood a foot away, flashing his signet ring at Ishtar.

 

“Poor Steve.” Marik sighed with a mocking voice that mimicked something more rueful. He gave a slight raise of his golden eyebrow. “So, is that your resume?”

 

“It does seem like you need a new hitman.”

 

“Skill is an important qualification; however there’s something to be said about loyalty and obedience.”

 

“Do you want a hitman or a dog?”

 

“Yes,” the albino answered, never shifting his eyes from the phone.

 

Marik smiled at the albino’s answer. His eyes shifted back to Keith. “Betrayal is an awful feeling. Think of my heartbreak if you were to turn on me?”

 

“Fine.” Keith dropped to his knees, going straight for Ishtar’s belt buckle. “You want a loyal pet? I’ll give you a demonstration of obedience.”

 

“Hmmm . . .” Marik sipped from his glass as he allowed Keith to lower his slacks. “Bakura, aren’t you going to get jealous?”

 

Again, his red eyes never shifted from the phone screen. “No, he’s ugly.”

 

Marik smirked. "What's wrong, Bakura, not into the strong, biker type?"

 

“At least I’m not some freak of nature,” Keith grumbled as he lowered Marik’s boxers.

 

Marik finished his champagne, setting the glass to the side and puffing on his cigar. “If  you’re fond of your tongue, you should avoid insulting Bakura. Besides . . .” he grabbed Keith’s hair and pressed his face towards Marik’s cock. “Didn’t you have something more productive to do with your mouth?”

 

Keith snorted, but didn’t protest as he took Marik into his mouth and began to suck. Marik kept a firm grip on Keith's hair, flicking cigar ash onto Keith’s clothes, but Keith continued to submit, bobbing his head up and down. It didn’t matter, Ishtar’s little initiation, it didn’t matter at all. What mattered was that Ishtar’s gang was the only group strong enough to take on Mutou’s. Their kingpin, known as The Pharaoh on the streets, had humiliated Keith during a poker championship, humiliating him and costing him a profane amount of money at the same time. Keith wanted revenge, and had no qualms against doing what was necessary in order to achieve said revenge.

 

Marik’s length now filled his mouth, girth stretching Keith’s lips. Keith ran his tongue up and down as his head bobbed. Marik’s hand stayed in Keith’s hair, but he was no longer smoking. The cigar stayed ignored in his other hand, as Marik leaned back. A slight exhale of breath hitched from Marik as Keith took him deeper into his mouth.

 

Looking up as he worked, Keith noticed how Marik’s hair snaked across his shoulders. He looked far off and Keith bobbed his head a little faster.

 

The albino, Bakura, paused his game and turned onto his stomach to watch. A sarcastic grin peeled back his lips as he muttered something in French to Marik. Marik snapped back, also in French, and they argued even as Keith pressed Marik as far into his throat as possible. It incited the smallest gasp from Marik, and Bakura laughed.

 

Keith felt his own need rising in his trousers the longer he sucked. With lazy fingers, Keith brushed up and down his own length through the fabric. He knew Ishtar was close, could feel the swell of girth, and the throb of blood beneath the surface of taut skin. Marik’s breath quickened. He arched a little, and then, just as Keith eased back in order to swallow, Marik jerked Keith’s head fully away. A thread of saliva trailed from Keith’s lips to Marik’s tip because of the abrupt withdrawal.

 

Marik laughed, speaking again to Bakura in French. Bakura rolled his eyes, pulling out a $100 bill and stuffing it into Marik’s vest pocket. Marik, meanwhile, released Keith's hair.

 

“No offensive,” Marik said. “But I never cum for the _subordinates_. Wouldn’t want to get attached - then I might shed a tear when my favorites get iced by greedy little upstarts trying to impress me.” He smirked at Keith. “I know why you’re here. You want war against the Mutous, and maybe the time has come for the Ishtars to expand their territory. Keep that ring, may it serve you better than it did Steve, and expect to hear from my associates within a week when I have work for you.” Marik flicked the cigar ash into a marble ashtray. He took one last draw from it before extinguishing it. “Now if you excuse me, my partner and I have some plans to discuss.”  

 

Keith stood up and walked out the glass office. As Keith closed the door, he noticed that Marik never bothered pulling up his pants, but he and Bakura did exchange rather predatory looks at each other.

 

 


	4. Thiefshipping/ Movie Drinking Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***I wrote this in one sitting and just finished, so I'm sure it's riddled with errors and I'm sorry. Nelliphant requested a Thiefshipping lemon where they played a drinking game.***

 

 

 

Marik sat at the kitchen table. His hair was mussed, eyes bare of kohl, and his hand held an old, ceramic mug filled with black coffee. The first signs of dawn poured in through the windows, but that didn't stop Marik from keeping on the overhead lights as well. Bakura never complained, though, and perhaps that was one of the reasons Marik agreed to let him stay when he appeared at Marik's front door (a month from the current day and a year after Yugi's Ceremonial Duel).

With Bakura, Marik never had to worry about explaining lights, or nightmares, or angry outbursts that would seem random to anyone who didn't already know why Marik was prone to them (because he didn't have his alter ego to process the emotions anymore). Hell, Bakura was as bad off as Marik, sometimes sitting on the couch with his knees pressed into his chest and a lost look on his face. When it happened, Bakura was incapacitated and nothing Marik did could ever bring him back to the current moment, so when it happened, Marik stayed quiet, waiting for Bakura to snap back to the present on his own. Whether it was Bakura's flashbacks, or Marik's outbursts, neither ever acted like they noticed; instead, they picked up an argument, or played Duel Monsters, or watched an old Bollywood movie they could make fun of while they ate kushari without chickpeas - because for some reason Bakura refused to eat chickpeas.

The front door opened and shut. The sound of it echoed to the kitchen. Marik looked up from his coffee and saw Bakura wearing a charcoal colored hoodie and old jeans. He tossed a stack of paper bills onto the table. "See, I told you I'd pay my half."

Marik frowned at the money. "How'd you get it?"

"What does it matter?"

"Look, you know why it matters. I'm not applying for sainthood any time soon, but I'm also trying  _not_  to be a complete criminal anymore. I don't want to pay the rent with your pick pocket money."

"I'm flattered that you think I'm so good at pick-pocketing that I could make this sort of cash in a few hours, but that's not how it works." Bakura smirked. "I won this money in a poker game. Not exactly honest work, but at least the victims were volunteers."

Marik sipped his coffee. "How'd you get the initial money to bet?"

Bakura's smirk widened. "Stole it from your wallet." He shrugged. "I added that amount back into the bill pile."

Marik set his cup down, angry at first, but then he laughed. "You know what? Fuck it. Well played."

Bakura snorted. "You caved in a little fast there. I was prepared for a lecture."

" _Borrowing_  money from me and gambling is as good as reformed as I think you'll ever get, and it's good enough for me."

Bakura's smirk settled a little, becoming dangerously close to a smile. "Good to hear, because I also won enough to buy this." He showed a paper bag to Marik and pulled out a bottle of Crown.

Marik raised an eyebrow. "A little early in the morning."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Ryou told me about a movie, and a game."

Marik grinned. "I like both of those things. Elaborate."

"The movie is called  _Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street_ , and the game is simple. You take a drink when certain things happen . . . like when Sweeney cuts a throat."

"Your host and his movies - I wonder about him."

"It's a revenge film. He implied that I have some common characteristics with the protagonist." Bakura furrowed his brows. "He also implied that I should watch the movie because it shows why getting revenge isn't the same as having a happy ending, but of course it wouldn't happen that way in a movie - people expect a story to go a certain way, sweet girls always get rescued, nasty men seeking vengeance always end up bleeding from their own sword."

"So why are we going to watch this then?"

Bakura's expression returned back to his usual crooked grin. "To drink every time someone's throat gets cut. To hell with Ryou's morals."

Marik finished his coffee and rinsed the cup in the sink. "Why not? It's not like we were doing anything important tonight."

Bakura shoved the bottle in the fridge to chill. "Great. Well, I'm going to bed."

"Asshole, don't go to bed. I just woke up."

Bakura shrugged, marching out of the kitchen. "Not my problem. I'll see you at noon."

It was closer to three when Marik actually saw Bakura lurking around the apartment again. He wore the same jeans and no shirt. The white of his torso seemed to rise from the waist of his jeans like thin, white smoke rising above a fire.

Marik stared a moment. He'd showered and dressed since that morning, sharp, black lines of kohl lined his gemstone eyes and he wore his gold bangles and choker. Bakura caught him staring, but Marik didn't turn away. Instead, his eyes struck Bakura's gaze and held it.

Bakura smirked. "You were staring."

"You're half naked."

"So what?"

"So all that white draws the eye."

"Oh? Is that all it is?"

Marik nodded to the kitchen. "I saved you some lunch."

"Does it have meat for once?"

"If you want to eat something specific cook for me for a change."

Bakura disappeared into the kitchen and brought back a plate. For all his complaining, he ate everything.

"Rinse the plate or you're out on the street."

"What would you do if I called your bluff on that?" Bakura asked, standing up.

"Kick you out, that's what I'd do."

"I doubt that. You'd have no white in the apartment in which to draw your eye to."

He went to the kitchen. Marik heard water running, although he knew he'd end up having to re-wash the plate. Bakura never did a good job rinsing his dishes, but Marik always made him do it anyway. Marik thought, for all their bickering, they really did well living together.

Bakura returned to the living room and Marik asked, "So, are you going to put a shirt on any time soon?"

Bakura sat next to Marik, cleaning his nails with a pocket knife. "I don't see why I should. I live here, afterall."

"I want to go to the store."

"Then go. I won't stop you."

"Come with me."

Bakura frowned. "I don't want to."

"Then I'm picking out all the food, and you can't bitch when you don't like any of it."

"Fine." Bakura flicked his knife shut and stuck it into his pocket. "I need to get a mixer for the whiskey anyway."

When they returned, Bakura helped Marik cook dinner. Marik thought they'd be on each other's toes and arguing within three minutes, but Marik chopped and prepped vegetables, while Bakura browned strips of beef for their curry and it somehow worked. They sat down to dinner actually having a decent conversation about the corruption of myths over time. Marik wasn't even sure  _how_  they'd gotten on such a random topic. It began with Set and sort of spun out of control.

For the first time Marik could remember, he didn't notice the sun setting. It usually made him shudder, the sunset. Watching the sun sink lower past the horizon and dragging darkness behind always filled Marik with vague dread, but he'd forgotten all about it while talking to Bakura.

"Ready?" Bakura asked after he helped with the dishes. He pulled out the Crown and Coke from the fridge and mixed two tall glasses before Marik had a chance to answer. They began by following the rules, drinking for each song or when London was mentioned, but they also made up rules as they went along - drink every time there's cleavage, drink whenever a character acted in the extreme. They were leaning against one another and laughing before they'd barely gotten into the movie, and when their glasses emptied, Bakura refilled them.

"That blood looks so fake. It pisses me off," Bakura complained. "I'm taking an extra drink for that."

"Yeah," Marik agreed, downing another gulp himself.

"What is this asshole doing singing a duet! Why hasn't he cut his throat yet?"

"Yeah!" Marik raised his glass to emphasize his statement. "Slit his throat so we can take a drink."

Bakura groaned as Todd was interrupted a moment before his razor could sink into his enemy's throat. "See? This always happens, seconds before you think you've won, some asshole interrupts. It pisses me off."

"We should take a drink anyway." Marik followed his own advice. Bakura nodded and mimed him.

The movie became hard to focus on. They stopped taking drinks, setting their cups on the coffee table. Marik glanced over at Bakura. He'd removed his shirt again, so his white hair streamed over his white shoulders. Marik reached out and slid one of his dusky fingers down Bakura's narrow, white arm. He jerked, spinning and staring at Marik, but smiling a moment later.

"Am I drawing your eye again?"

In his side vision, Marik noticed Sweeney Todd cutting a beggar-woman's throat. "Shouldn't we drink to that?"

"Huh?" Bakura glanced at the screen. "Oh, yeah, I suppose we should."

They took their glasses and drank in union.

"Ha." Bakura grinned, too wide for his face. "The judge. Let's see if he gets what he deserves this time." Bakura leaned forward, watching the screen, but Marik kept his eyes on Bakura, smiling as he watched the excitement build on Bakura's face.

"Kill him - kill him - kill him," Bakura chanted, his free hand in a fist. "That's right . . . sit in the chair - oh sweet, fucking gods! They're singing again! If he fucks this up I'm going to scream."

As Bakura threatened to scream, Sweeney Todd actually screamed out his name, plunging his silver razor into the judge's throat.

"Yes!" Bakura cheered, arms in the air. "Fucking yes! Finally! Bye-bye fucker! Marik, finish the glass!"

Marik downed the second half of his drink, gasping for breath after the last of the Crown and Coke was down his throat. Bakura grabbed the remote and turned off the t.v.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"Oh, we're done. I don't know what happens next, and I'm never going to find out. Todd got his revenge, and as far as I'm concerned he goes to bed afterward and gets the most restful night of sleep in his life. In the morning he wakes up and eats a meat-pie made out of the judge and it's the best damn breakfast he's ever had. That's how the movie ends, Marik."

"But his daughter is still in the chest."

"Who cares? What did I tell you about the young girls? They're always okay by the end. She'll abscond with her sailor and living a wretched, mediocre life making babies and knitting socks for them. Oh the joys of being a heroine."

"Better than the tragic hero, don't you think? You won't even watch his ending."

Bakura scowled, not drunk, but definitely loopy. He set down his cup and the remote. "I want to change his ending, Marik. Just once let him have his fun and not be punished by the gods for it."

Marik leaned a little closer. He could smell whiskey on Bakura's breath and cologne on his neck. "You know . . . I don't even like the metaphor of you being like Sweeney Todd."

"If I'm like him it's a simile and not a metaphor."

"Oh shut-up, you know what I meant. I still don't like it, because if you're Sweeney Todd that makes me Mrs. Lovett."

"What? How so?"

"Because I'm your partner."

"She's not his  _partner_. She's his  _groopie_. Do you know what  _you'd_  be in that metaphor?"

Marik laughed. "What?"

Bakura leaned closer. Their noses almost touched. "The straight razors."

"His razor blades? How am I the razor blades?"

"Those are his true partner. They're the only thing he smiles at, or respects, or even cares for in the slightest."

"He does call them his friends." Marik blinked, staring at Bakura's face. "Does that make me your friend?"

Bakura reached up, slipping his hands into Marik's hair. "It makes you the only thing that glistens in this miserable, tragic world of mine."

Marik's mouth dropped a little. When Bakura noticed Marik's lips move, he bridged the last breath of space between them and sealed their lips together. Marik pulled them closer together, pressing their chests together. Bakura gasped, and Marik dipped his tongue into Bakura's opened mouth.

Bakura fell back onto the sofa cushions and Marik climbed on top of him, sucking at Bakura's top lip. Their fingers grabbed for each other, kneading bare skin where they could find it. Marik jerked off his tank top, casting it down to the carpet.

"Is this a whiskey thing?" Marik asked even as he undid Bakura's belt buckle.

"You tell me." Bakura grabbed Marik's wrists and pulled them away from his pants, dragging his pale lips across spice-colored skin above Marik's wrist jewelry.

"I'm the one that's been staring at you every time you don't wear a shirt."

"And I'm the one that's been walking around without a shirt so that you'd stare."

"Then why has it taken us a month to get to this point?" Marik pulled his hands away from Bakura's lips so he could finish disrobing Bakura.

"Wait." Bakura reached into his pocket before Marik finished slipping off his pants. He handed Marik a 2 oz bottle of lube.

Marik took it, raising an eyebrow.

"I stole it from the store when you were buying shampoo."

"What? You think a few drinks is all it takes to get into my pants?"

"Hey, I just wanted to be prepared. I figured if not tonight, then it'd only be a matter of time."

Marik laughed, slipping out of his own pants. He drizzled the lube on both of their erections and rubbed them together. Bakura gasped, arching his back and clawing at the upholstery.

"Hmmm . . ." Marik purred as he continued to slide their cocks together, holding them with his left hand. "I wonder if you're loud in bed." He used a little more gel to coat his right fingers and press two up Bakura's ass.

To his delight, Bakura arched again and called out. Marik continued to prep Bakura, quick and a little rough, but Bakura moaned instead of complained.

"You're definitely loud in bed."

"Why should I give a fuck?" Bakura growled. "I'm not polite enough to be quiet."

"Good." Marik added more lube to both his erection and Bakura's entrance before penetrating Bakura.

"Oh damn." Bakura crushed his eyes shut, hair in a swarm around his head. The sofa was narrow, but he slung one white leg over the back of the sofa and planted his other heel against the cover table in order to keep his legs spread wide for Marik.

A long, low sigh of pleasure escaped Marik's mouth as well. No amount of alcohol could mute the thrill coursing through Marik's cock as he rammed hard and deep into Bakura's body. Sweat trickled down his neck and his hair tickled against his damp skin.

Bakura reached out and pulled Marik closer to him. Their skin radiated heat as they moved, and Bakura's throaty gasps and moans resonated loudly into Marik's ears. His fingers wandered from Marik's ribs to his back.

"Can I touch them?" Bakura asked as his fingers hit the first ridges of scar tissue.

Marik's eyes locked with Bakura's, shining with whiskey and the overhead light. For some reason Marik thought of the scroll work on Sweeney Todd's silver razors. The ridiculous metaphor made Marik smile. He nodded, and Bakura ran his palms across Marik's back. He didn't inspect the marks, instead he simply held Marik's back, the heat from his hands made the muscles in Marik's back relax. He sighed, slowing his thrusts in order to kiss Bakura on the mouth.

"Marik."

"What?"

"Grab me."

Marik used one hand to keep himself balanced and used the other to start stroking Bakura. He spoke close to Bakura's lips, moving too fast to kiss him. "Like this?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to cum?"

" _Yes_!"

Bakura wrapped his legs around Marik's waste. Marik barely moved, trapped in Bakura's hold, but he continued to stroke until Bakura poured out between them. His legs slacked. Marik grabbed Bakura's legs and placed them on Marik's shoulders. With one hand on the sofa arm, and the other near Bakura's chest, Marik returned to fast jerks of his hips. When his orgasm hit, Marik tossed his head back as he howled at the ceiling light.

Bakura laughed. " _Who's_  loud in bed?"

Marik slipped out, staring at Bakura's ruffled hair and flushed face. "I'm not polite enough to be quiet."

Bakura smiled. "Good." A more solemn look crept across his face. He looked away. "Do I still have to sleep in my own room?"

"What?" Marik leaned down, kissing Bakura's exposed jaw and behind his ear as he whispered to him. "Did you want to sleep on the couch instead?"

"Fuck you, Marik," Bakura whispered in return, his words drowsy instead of insulted.

"Hey, Bakura."

"What?"

"You look sleepy. Come to bed with me."


	5. Citronshipping/ Their Second First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My queue is up to 7, so forget editing. I still owe Nelliphant a fluffy Thiefshipping card game drabble, but I didn't like what I wrote and deleted it, so I'm trying to move on with the list until the writer's block on that specific prompt goes away. So here's the next one, "a" requested "some good old-fashioned thiefshipping, wherein marik has to put up with bakura confusing the memory of what his real body liked during sex and what his host body likes (...) (bonus point, bakura is shockingly vanilla and ryou's the one who has a baddragon loyalty card)" ... technically this is citronshipping and not thief, but she said I could do either

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Random Author Note) I had to Urban Dictionary what Bad Dragon even was, and then I sat there, looking at their webpage, laughing and thinking "Kaiba doesn't need to know that this is a site. He'd buy it out and make a Blue Eyes White Dragon line".  
> \----

Bakura's fingers clung to Marik's back, digging into both smooth skin and scars. They'd been kissing for over half an hour. Marik's lips felt raw and chafed, but he couldn't stop himself. He thought Bakura was lost to him - a Ring cast careless into the abyss by those who didn't know any better. It'd been three months after the Ceremonial Duel, and when Marik came home that evening, a dark skinned stranger had been waiting at his door. At least, Marik thought he was a stranger until he saw the white hair and facetious smirk.

They made it into the apartment, even managed to shut the door, but after three steps into the living room, Marik had tackled the thief to the ground and they'd been kissing ever since. The scar on his face, his nose, his chin, Marik kissed everywhere he could reach, but mostly stayed latched to Bakura's lips.

Bakura moaned into Marik's mouth, and Marik decided it was time to advance the situation. He moved down to Bakura's throat sucking gently before biting. Bakura hissed and Marik laughed, Bakura had almost sounded pained.

_They'd only been together one other time, during Battle City. It'd been hard and quick in a storage closet on the blimp before everything had gone to shit. Mark remembered their fingers digging into each other's sides, the purple bruises that lingered on Marik's bronzed skin for weeks afterward._

Marik bit Bakura again, spurred by the memory.

"Nhg." Bakura held his breath, jerking at Marik's teeth.

He trailed his tongue to Bakura's chest, taking Bakura's berry colored nipple between his teeth.

"Dammit, not so hard."

"Last time this had you demanding more."

_Bakura had called out, again and again, not satisfied until Marik's nails broke through the skin, leaving red welts on white, white flesh. Marik had thrown Bakura against the wall, spitting then thrusting with little prior preparation, and Bakura wailed in ecstasy until he came, hot and thick, over his own stomach._

Marik dropped down between Bakura's legs, holding them wide apart, circling Bakura's entrance with a wet tongue.  _That_  ignited Bakura's interest. He arched back and screamed like he did their first time together. Marik's cock throbbed as Bakura continued to moan in his lush, suede voice.

"Marik. Oh Marik. Fuck yes."

Marik spit into his palm, using the saliva to coat his shaft. He crammed his fingers into Bakura's mouth and Bakura sucked without question. Once slick, Marik pulled the digits from between Bakura's lips and wiggled them inside Bakura's body.

He made the same hissing sound as before, as if Marik touched a wound. Marik spit onto Bakura's asshole again, thinking that perhaps he hadn't gotten him quite wet enough. Bakura's protests lowered to uncomfortable grunts, but he didn't complain so Marik didn't stop. He prepped Bakura longer than the first time, and then spat again before shoving his tip into Bakura's ass.

"Ow." Bakura grit his teeth as Marik began to thrust. "Ow. Ow, dammit Marik, stop."

It took a second for  _stop_  to translate properly in Marik's mind. Bakura was searing hot and tighter than last time, and all Marik wanted to do was go faster, but he saw the pain wrinkling Bakura's features and pulled away.

"What's wrong?"

"You`re too fucking big. That's what's wrong. What'd you do fucking grow three inches since last time?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Marik frowned.

"Fuck you. It's not ridiculous to want to get something out of this, too, you know."

"Bakura what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Me?  _You're_  the one doing a bad job." He gestured to his flaccid cock. "This isn't sexy. You can't just shove your dick into me and expect me to get into it."

"That's what happened last time."

"Yeah . . . well . . . now it sucks, so stop it."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Not my problem." Bakura crossed his arms over his chest. "Find a way to make this work."

"Me?  _You're_  the one with a problem -  _you_  make it work."

"Forget this then." Bakura stood up, searching for his clothes.

Marik opened his mouth to argue, but paused. Bakura looked miserable. It wasn't a look Marik was use to, or enjoyed, seeing. Marik stood up, walking to Bakura and reaching out, brushing his fingertips across Bakura's chest, trying to sooth away any pain he may have caused. "Um . . . Bakura?"

Bakura's eyes shifted from the tangled clothes on the floor to Marik. "What now?"

"Was Ryou a virgin?"

"No, he had a boyfriend before he moved to Domino."

"Are  _you_  a virgin?"

"I don't see how that has to do with  _anything_ ," Bakura snapped. "I had sex with you before."

"Yeah, but not in  _this_  body."

"So what?"

"So . . . maybe I could try again?" Marik started kissing Bakura again.

Bakura stiffened, but when he realized Marik wasn't going to bite he relaxed into the kisses. Marik held the back of Bakura's head, leading him to Marik's bedroom and laying him down on Marik's bed. Marik meandered down Bakura's body again, licking Bakura's nipples and trailing his tongue across cinnamon colored flesh. He reached Bakura's thighs. Bakura tightened up, as if expecting a trap, but after a while of nothing but languid, deep kisses, Bakura relaxed once again.

Marik returned to his previous rim job, flicking his tongue against Bakura's hot flesh. Bakura gasped, then exhaled a moan. Both noises sounded aroused instead of uncomfortable. Marik licked, and sucked, and pressed his tongue into Bakura's body. He took his time, allowing his own arousal to build inside him. Marik reached up and wrapped his fingers around Bakura's cock, finding him hard again. He stroked leisurely, until Bakura was panting and squirming.

"Marik, stop teasing. I want you back inside me."

"Okay," Marik whispered. Marik found the lube his used on himself at night. He warmed the gel in hands saturated Bakura's asshole. Marik only started with one finger, easing in and out in a gentle, deliberate rhythm.

"Better?"

"Add another one."

Marik nodded and complied. He bent down, kissing Bakura's shaft, kneading the erection with both lips and tongue.

"Marik." Bakura moaned, it was deeper and more needy than his voice had been the first time, and Marik felt himself twitching from the noise.

"Ready?" Marik asked, fighting to keep the smile off of his face. He thought it was hilarious, the difference between their first and second time, but also knew that if he laughed Bakura would storm away.

But Bakura wasn't paying attention to Marik at the moment. His eyes were closed as he focused on Marik's hands instead of his face. He nodded for Marik to continue, and Marik shifted positions in order to sheath himself into Bakura. They stayed still for a moment, Marik watching Bakura's face. His eyes fluttered open and he looked at Marik in return. Something about Bakura's flushed face took Marik's breath from him.

"Are-are you just going to lay here or . . ."

Marik did laugh a little then.  _Now_  Bakura was impatient, sure. Marik pulled out a few inches and then eased back in. Bakura gasped, and the sound made Marik's spine tingle. His own desire screamed for  _fast_ and  _hard_ , but Marik forced himself to stay controlled, easing in and easing out. His reward were the most beautiful noises he'd ever heard. Bakura moaning in lust with Ryou's vocal cords had been hot, but Bakura's own voice, in his own body, was richer, deeper, more fitting for Bakura.

Marik leaned in close, holding Bakura's shoulder with one hand and stroking Bakura with the other hand. As soon as Marik began stroking Bakura, Bakura called out and wrapped both arms and legs around Marik's body. The breath stuttered from Marik's lungs. Ryou's arms with thin, but Bakura's muscle was cut into hard knots, and his warmth felt like rapture against the scars on Marik's back. Marik called out, louder than Bakura, as the pleasure inside peaked and he and Bakura came in union.


	6. (Psycho)Trashshipping/ Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stupid trashshipping prompts, I'm getting strangely fond of these two ... probably why this fic ended up much longer than a thousand words. CursiveBlade13 prompted for "something smutty and Psychoshipping" with a Yami Marik top preference. It's too late for me, so I'm going to go pass out now zzzzzzzzzz

They both lay on their backs in an alley, arms and legs splayed out like mangled snow angels. Shadows covered their faces, and they cackled up at the few stars showing through the light pollution in the sky.

 

“I don’t believe we pulled that off,” Bakura gasped between breaths, another round of laughter seized him.  

 

“I don’t believe it was even possible.” Marik’s other half, who Bakura had taken to calling Kek, snorted.

 

Bakura pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his jeans.  "Well, this isn't the Shadow Realm, so it worked."

 

Kek stood up as well.  "What do we do now?"

 

Bakura looked towards the end of the alley.  "I don't know. Where the hell are we?"

 

They both walked out onto the street together, blinking at the city lights.

 

"This isn't Domino City."

 

Kek's eyes scanned the horizon.  "That's the Golden Gate Bridge. We're in San Francisco."

 

"Where?"

 

"The United States."

 

“How the hell did we end up here?”

 

"How the hell should I know? Who cares, right? What's important is that we're out of the gods forsaken Shadows.  Besides . . ." Kek looked away.  "Maybe it's better this way. Don't you think? We're too far away now."

 

"Too far away to do what?"

 

"Fuck up their lives."

 

Bakura began to ask whose lives, but then he realized that Kek meant Ryou and Marik. “You know . . . maybe you’re right. They shouldn’t know we’ve returned - ever.”  Bakura scanned the street. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

 

He disappeared, scanning the street and the passerbys. He lifted a wallet from a plastic looking blonde woman in heels and two hoodies from a street vender before he returned to the original alley. He tossed one of the two black hooides to Kek. “Put that on.”  

 

“Why?”

 

“To hide your hair. We’re about to cash out some bitch’s credit card at an ATM and I don’t want that recognizable mess on camera.”

 

Kek nodded, seeing the sense in Bakura’s plan, and slipped on the hoodie.

 

Bakura laughed. “You’re fucking hopeless.”

 

The hoodie bunched up in the back, and jagged tuffs of gold poked out like straw from a scarecrow's head.  Kek frowned, ripping the hood away from his head. “Fuck this.”

 

“Hold on.” Bakura’s laughter faded as he looked around. “Stay here again.”

 

He went back onto the street and came back with small bundle of paracord.

 

“Where the hell did you even find that?”

 

Bakura shrugged. “You’d be amazed at what you can steal on a busy street. Bend down.”

 

Kek’s frown deepened, but he tilted forward and allowed Bakura to tie back Kek’s hair. He wrapped the cord around several times to kill some of the width that sprayed out from behind his head even in a ponytail. “Try the hoodie now.”

 

It looked puffy, but would serve their purpose. They wandered the streets until they found an ATM machine, withdrew $2,000 in cash from a platinum credit card, and ditched the purse in a trashcan so it couldn’t be tracked. They found another ally to hide in, away from the busy streets, and Bakura divided the two grand between them. “That will get us each started.”

 

“Yeah . . .” Kek stared at the money in his hands. He shoved the cash into his khaki pocket, looking up at the sky. “I have my own body now.”  

 

Bakura stared at his thin, white arms. “And I have a new one. Wish I could have the first one back, but there’s probably not even bones left from that old thief.”

 

Kek nodded to show that he listened even as he looked up at the sky. “Guess there’s no reason for me to stick around anymore . . .”

 

“Yeah . . .” Bakura glanced at Kek’s face. “Although . . . it might be advantageous for us both to stick together - at least for a few nights while we work things out.”  

 

A grin broke out on Kek’s face as his lavender eyes dropped to Bakura. “Yeah? You think so?”

 

“I mean, we hate each other about as much as two people can hate each other, of course, but . . . I mean, we got out of the Shadows together didn’t we? And you’re not half as demanding as your other half.”

 

“And your English is pretty terrible. I’m surprised you managed to navigate that ATM. It might be better if I did the talking.”

 

Bakura shrugged. “Should have let my host study more. Then I’d know more.”  

 

Kek tossed the hood off of his head and fixed his hair into as normal of a ponytail as he could manage. “What are we doing first?”

 

“Food.” Bakura licked his lips at the thought. “Then somewhere to shack up for the night. It’ll be easier to figure things out after something to eat and some sleep.”

 

Kek nodded and they took back off into the streets. They found a twenty four hour diner, a dying breed of mom and pop industry lost in a strip of name brands.

 

Kek frowned at the menu, leaning across the table to whisper at Bakura. “Everything has meat in it.”

 

“Thank the gods. If I had to suffer through one more of Ryou’s tofu feasts I was going to vomit soy all over his carpet.”

 

“I  . . . don’t eat meat.”

 

Bakura looked up from the laminated menu. “You’re kidding me, right?”

 

“It spoiled too quickly underground, so tomb keepers didn’t eat it. After that, Rishid always served Marik’s meals, and they never had meat in them.”

 

Bakura smirked. “All the more reason to try it now, right?”

 

Kek’s eyes darted across the menu. “I don’t know what to order.”

 

“I’ll take care of it.”

 

When the waitress came Bakura ordered double cheese burgers (medium rare), fries, and cherry pie a la mode. They drank black coffee as they waited on their food.  Kek looked nervous when his plate came, juice soaking into the bottom half of the bun. He saturated his fries with catsup, nibbling on them and watching Bakura eat.

 

Bakura grabbed his burger and dove in, ignoring his fries altogether. After a while, Kek worked up the nerve to pick up his sandwich, needing both hands to hold it. His first bite was small, and his second bite was enormous.

 

“See? I told you.”

 

“What the hell is wrong with Marik?” Kek asked with his mouth full. “Why doesn’t he eat this, sweet fucking gods this is good.”

 

Bakura nodded, washing his last bite down with the last of his coffee. The waitress refilled their cups when she brought their pie. They finished their meal in silence, staring out the plate glass window, street light tinting their faces with soft blues, yellows, and oranges. Finished, they settled the bill and searched for a hotel.

 

They avoided the large, luxurious buildings - one needed an ID for such places, and ended up in a part of town with bars on the windows and graffiti tagging most of the walls and trash bins. They found a small motel that looked like it would take cash and ask few question. The man behind the counter had a thick, dark mustache and brown eyes. He muttered something at them that wasn’t English.

 

Kek grinned, showing teeth. He walked up and leaned against the counter, chatting in a casual tone. The stranger’s attitude changed when he heard his own language echoed back at him. After a few minutes of chatting and an exchange of bills, he slid a key across the counter and Kek took it. Bakura followed him out of the office and back to the parking lot.  

 

“That wasn’t English.”

 

“No, Urdu.”

 

“How many fucking languages do you know?”

 

“Twenty-seven. Every time Marik took control of someone that knew a different language, he’d always steal that information from their minds.”

 

“Damn, that’s useful.”  Their feet crunched over broken asphalt as they walked to the main building, an L shape lined with doors. Bakura picked at the peeling maroon paint while Kek used his key to get them inside.

 

“I can help you with English,” Kek said, flicking on the light so they could see what they’d rented. “What a crap hole.”

 

“Wouldn’t hurt to learn.” Bakura frowned at the floral print on the two full-sized beds. “I’m so tired, I don’t even care that this is a crap hole.” He shuffled to the nearest bed, checking the linens to make sure they were clean before flopping on the mattress.  The door had three locks on the inside, and Kek made sure all of them were fastened before lying down himself.

 

“Do you need me to keep the light on?” Bakura asked.

 

Kek snorted. “You’re confusing me with Marik. The dark doesn’t bother me - not the harmless kind that doesn’t try to devour your soul, at least.”

 

“Great.” Bakura reached out and flipped a switch, turning the lamp off.

 

The muffled sounds of traffic filtered into the little room. The occasional wail of a far off siren would rise and fall away, and two human voices shouting nearby had Bakura wishing he had a knife, but otherwise, the night was quiet until Kek started to toss and turn beneath his covers. He started with low muttering, but it soon became screams, formless anger pouring from Kek’s throat.

 

Bakura jerked out of bed, searching for an attacker before realizing the problem. He dashed to Kek’s bed, shaking his shoulder. “Hey, hey asshole, wake-up.”

 

Kek woke up swinging. Bakura dodged. In the near-dark room Kek blinked up at him, and then burst into a violent fit of tears. Bakura sat down, grabbing both his shoulders and shaking him. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

 

“Fuck off.” Kek shook his head, pushing Bakura away, but Bakura grabbed both Kek’s wrists, sitting down on the bed beside him.

 

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” There might have been a trace of concern in Bakura’s voice, or he may have been irritated from being woken up in the middle of the night.

 

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I just . . . “ He grabbed Bakura, pulling him into a bearhug and digging his face into Bakura’s shoulder.

 

Bakura’s eyes bulged a little from shock. He reached out a shaky hand and rubbed tentative circles across Kek’s back. “Hey . . . hey . . . it’s no big deal.”

 

Kek’s voice came out his a high-pitched growl, still broken with sobs. “He was carving us to pieces and we felt like we were dying and Marik couldn’t take it, but I could, so I did.”

 

“He’s dead. You killed him. He’s dead.”

 

“I know. I know that. Why does it hurt, though? It never h-hurt before. Why the fuck does my chest hurt, Bakura?”

 

Bakura’s hands slipped under Kek’s shirt so he could rub circles directly on top of Kek’s scars. “There’s a price for everything, I guess,” Bakura whispered. “Can’t get a body without getting the humanity the comes with it.”

 

They sat together in silence for a moment, Kek’s tears ceasing as Bakura rubbed his back.

 

Bakura sighed. “I’m beginning to question some of my actions myself, now that I’m not in the Ring, now that Zorc isn’t connected to me any longer.”

 

“I don’t want to feel.” Kek’s voice came out rusty, dull. “I liked it better before. I felt good before. The pain, the killing, the dark, it was all so good.” Kek near moaned at the memory as if aroused from thinking about the former suffering he caused others.

 

Bakura chuckled. “I know.”

 

“This . . . this hurts.”

 

“I know.” Bakura lay them both down, rearranging the blankets so they could lie together.

 

“What are you doing, Bakura?”

 

“I’m not sure,” he answered, holding Kek a little tighter.

 

“Is this okay?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Do we still hate each other?”

 

“I guess not.” Bakura closed his eyes, leaning into Kek’s body heat.

 

“Good . . . I don’t want to be alone.”

 

“Yeah . . . me neither.”

 

“Don’t leave.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

“Don’t leave,” Kek repeated.

 

“I won’t.”  

 

They slept in each other's arms, as weak and dependant of each other as any of their enemies had been with their friendships. Only whatever fragile bond had formed between them in the darkness wasn’t a need for companionship - no, rather it was a sort of desperation.

 

In the morning, with the sun, they both woke blinking and confused in each other’s arms. Kek scratched the back of his head. “Did . . . did I have some kind of emotional breakdown last night?”

 

“Sort of.” Bakura yawned and stretched.

 

Kek laughed, but the sound was more embarrassment than humor. “Why did you put up with it?”

 

“I . . .” Bakura paused in thought. “Used to do the same thing, at night, when I thought of my village. Ryou would hold me.”

 

Kek laughed again, a little more amused than the first time. “Your host was a bad influence on you.”

 

“I guess.”

 

They got breakfast, steak and eggs at another diner, and bought clothes and toiletries. Kek had rented their room for a week, so they went back to their motel in order to plan their next move. Bakura sat at the little, round table and stared out the window. “I can teach you to cheat in a dice game if you teach me English. We can earn some money that way.”

 

Kek was drying his hair after a shower. “What about long term?”

 

“Hell, I can barely cope with today, let alone long term. Three thousands years of seeking vengeance, and now . . . I don’t have much of a resume.”

 

They spent the week hustling for more money. They didn’t need it, they had plenty from their original stash even after Kek paid for another week in their hovel, but it was something to do. Bakura also worked on learning English, until he was at least good enough to walk into a 7-11 and get into an argument with someone like a proper American. They built up an impressive knife collection, always carrying multiple weapons on them at all times.

 

When they slept, they continued to share a single bed, clinging to each other as if letting go would somehow split the universe. They never mentioned it after the first morning; it was understood that as soon as the lights went off Bakura was there, holding Kek.  

 

“Maybe we should look for a real apartment,” Kek whispered one night.

 

“I suppose. Couldn’t be anymore run down than this heap, and having a fridge, washer, and dryer would be useful.”

 

“The last time we were at the laundromat, I almost gutted that one guy. I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

 

Bakura snorted. “That was . . . weird, to say the least. I would have stabbed him myself had he tried anything.”  

 

The wall behind their headboard started to shake and a female voice moaned from the other side. Bakura’s and Kek’s eyes lulled up, as if they could see the cause of the noise by staring at the picture bouncing against the wall from the nail supporting it.

 

“Is he killing her?” Kek asked.

 

Bakura laughed, his voice only half drowning out the woman’s cries. “No, you moron, they’re fucking.”

 

“Oh,” Kek said, then his eyes shifted back to Bakura as he understood. “Oh.”

 

Bakura sighed, more aware than ever before that he lay in bed wrapped up with another living body. “With a classy establishment like this, it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

 

“So . . .” Kek cleared his throat. “Have you ever . . .?”

 

Bakura smirked as the thudding from the other side of the wall picked up in pace. “Not in three-thousand years I haven’t.” He paused a moment, raising an eyebrow. “You?”

 

“No. Marik never did.”

 

Bakura leaned closer to Kek, his breath warm as he whispered into Kek’s ear. “Want to?”

 

Kek’s eyes bulged, wide and purple. “Do I want . . . to fuck you?”

 

Bakura licked his lips, white hair scattered around his face. “Why not? I bet we could teach those assholes how it’s done.”

 

Kek’s chest rose up and down a little faster than before. He nodded. “O-okay.”

 

Kek shifted, half laying on top of Bakura and looking down at him. Kek reached over and flicked on the bedside lamp.

 

Bakura’s maroon eyes flicked towards the lampshade. “Why’d you do that?”

 

“So I can look at you.”

 

Bakura made a small noise, like a hum, but he turned away until Kek slipped off his t-shirt, then Bakura’s eyes traveled back, staring at Kek’s copper chest. As Kek slipped off his pants, Bakura took off his own clothes, throwing them on the floor.

 

“You look like milk,” Kek whispered.

 

“Uh, thanks?”

 

“Shut-up.” Kek blushed. “I’m not used to saying nice things.”

 

Bakura chuckled, teasing Kek’s cocoa-colored nipple. “Then don’t say nice things.” He winked. “There’s always dirty talk.”

 

Kek’s eyes glazed over as if drunk off the sight of Bakura. He wound his fingers in Bakura’s hair, pulling Bakura’s head back and lowering his lips an inch from Bakura’s ear. “I’m going to fuck you.”

 

“Good start.” Bakura peted Kek’s chest and stomach. “I bet you can get more creative.”

 

Kek bit the side of Bakura’s neck, inciting a gasp. Bakura’s gentle pets progressed to eager grabs and Kek sucked at his throat. He pulled away, licking the shell of Bakura’s ear before whispering. “I’ll have you cumming so hard you’ll think you died.”  

 

Bakura replied by spreading his legs apart. Kek rummaged in the nightstand until he found a bottle of lube next to three condoms and an old, faded Bible.  Kek held the lube in one hand, sucking on Bakura’s chest for a moment and getting a feel for the body beneath him. Bakura’s hand reached between Kek’s legs, stroking his already hard shaft, and Kek thrust once on instinct.

 

Bakura made an approving noise. He grabbed the lube from Kek’s hand and saturated Kek’s cock. Next, he poured the gel on his own asshole, using his fingers to push extra lubricant into himself. Kek watched for a minute, but then he growled and started nipping at Bakura’s white thighs.

 

“Harder,” Bakura whispered, and Kek bit until the skin bruised a sweet, delicate blue color.

 

Bakura pulled his fingers away from himself and Kek took it as a sign to begin. He lined himself up, holding his breath as he pressed against Bakura. The flesh didn’t yield at first. Kek added pressure and felt Bakura’s body giving, parting and pulling Kek into the heat of Bakura’s body. They both called out, panting hard, drops of sweat already collecting around the curves of their temples.

 

Outside the motel traffic buzzed, a dog barked, and a car alarm trilled, but inside the motel was the sound of springs creaking, headboards pounding against dry wall, and flesh smacking against flesh. Bakura grabbed Kek’s hair, pulling their mouths together until their lips shined. Kek’s slow, novice thrusts gave way to a steady, consistent rhythm.

 

“Like that?” Kek taunted when Bakura broke their sloppy round of kissing.

 

Bakura moaned instead of answered.

 

“You’re already thinking about it, aren’t you?” Kek panted. “The way it’ll feel - when you cum in my hand?”

 

“Harder!” Bakura shouted instead of answering, and Kek grabbed Bakura’s shaft before hiking his hips harder.

 

Bakura was near shrieking, clawing at the blanket below them. The banging from the next room long ceased, but from the other side they heard three, intrusive knocks, a noise warning.

 

“Fuck you!” Kek shouted at the wall, punctuating his exclamation by moving quicker and making Bakura scream more for it.

 

Bakura arched up, digging his nails into Kek’s shoulders as he ejaculated. Kek slowed down, bringing his hand up and licking the cum away from the side of his hand. “I told you, didn’t I?”

 

“Yes,” Bakura confessed, voice dry and more mellow than usual.

 

Kek kissed Bakura’s shoulder, sucking in the smell of their sweat and body heat. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered with more ease than before they began.

 

“Shut-up,” Bakura gasped, his face still flushed from orgasm and perhaps a slight blush.

 

“But you are. I get turned on just looking at you.”

 

“I said shut-up.”  

 

“Shut-up?” Kek nipped at Bakura’s collarbone. “Sure you don’t want to hear me scream instead?”

 

Bakura recovered some of his composure, grabbing Kek’s ass and pushing in sync with Kek’s own movements. “Yes. Scream. Scream.”

 

Kek closed his eyes, focusing on the sucking heat surrounding him from tip to base. The bed felt like it would collapse at any moment, but Kek couldn’t stop. He rammed into Bakura until he felt his skin burn and cold chills devour his spine. Kek screamed.

 

They lay in each other's arms when it was over, silent, listening to their hearts beating in their ears.

 

“Is this okay?” Kek asked, much as he asked on their first night.

 

Bakura stared at the ceiling for a moment, then lowered his gaze to Kek’s face. “Yeah . . . I think it is.”

 

 


	7. Gemshipping/ Neko SciFi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Time-Stopping-9990's prompt - "Gemshipping: Ryou is an enslaved neko to be sold and Akefia comes upon him at a slave dealers."
> 
> FYI: I've never read a neko fanfic before, so I don't know any of the conventions for them, so sorry if I missed an important troupe because of that.***

The first thing Ryou learned as a slave was never to speak unless spoken to.  The second thing was to always keep his head down.  Nonetheless, when he caught the flash of a scarlet robe swishing around a body that smelled strongly of the desert, Ryou's curiosity got the better of him and he lifted his red eyes up to stare at the stranger.

 

White locks crowned his head, the same color as Ryou's hair but otherwise he looked human. He saw Ryou staring. Smirking, he walked up to the little, white neko and held his chin, tilting his face up so they could get a better look at each other.

 

“That one’s extra,” the vendor said, eyes never lifting from the sordid magazine in his hands. “All white ones are rare. Most have spots on their ear or foot, but not him. All white. He’ll disrobe if you want to see for yourself.”

 

They were at a space station known as The Market. Silks, jewels, rare metals, anything the rich and privileged species of the galaxy could ever want to own ended up at The Market - slaves more than anything else.

 

“Yeah?” the stranger asked. “How much extra, though?”

 

“1k.”

 

“That’s twice as much! It’s robbery!”

 

The vender shrugged. “Buy a spotted one, then. That one’s 1k.”  

 

“Hmmm . . . hey, pet? You worth the extra cash?”

 

Ryou looked down. He held his hands together, trying to hide his angry shaking.

 

“He asked you a question,” the vendor snarled.

 

“I would take very good care of you, sir,” Ryou whispered, his eyes closed so he didn’t have to look as he said it.

 

The man leaned close, so close that when he snorted Ryou’s felt his breath tickle his sensitive, white ear. “If I freed you, would you gut that swine over there?”

 

Ryou’s heart started pounding. He froze in place, not daring to hope that the man was in anyway sincere - until the neko felt a dagger slip up his sleeve. He opened his eyes and the human smirked again.

 

“Well, I’m going to see what the prices are at the other end of The Market.”

 

“You won’t find one that pretty at the other end of The Market.”

 

“Perhaps not, but then I’ll just come back here and pick this little kitten up.” He slipped a thin rod out of his own sleeve. The vendor didn’t notice because he was still staring at his magazine.

 

“I’m not saving him. If he gets sold before you get back it’s not my problem.”

 

With a twist of the rod, Ryou felt his manacle fall from his hands. The human caught them so they wouldn’t make any noise. Ryou’s tail started to swish. He couldn’t help it; he was too excited.

 

“I like to gamble,” he said, winking at Ryou and walking away.

 

Ryou grabbed the dagger from his sleeve and walked behind the vendor. He glided the blade across the vendor’s throat before the vendor even had time to look up. A rush of satisfaction coursed through Ryou as the man twitched then fell to the ground. As far as shopkeepers went, the man was neither kind nor cruel, but Ryou didn’t care - the vendor had thought of them as nothing but merchandise, and now Ryou thought of him as nothing but a carcass.

 

Afterward, Ryou grabbed the key and freed his closest companion. The little cream and yellow neko shook his head, yellow ears twitching above the spikes of hair. “It’s too soon. Ryou we can’t yet.”

 

“This doesn’t change the plans, Yugi, it only fast tracks them.” Ryou handed the key to Yugi. “Free the others. Go to the underground.”

 

“Where are you going?” Yugi, asked.

 

“I have to find the man who freed us. Go on without me. I’ll contact you when I can.”

 

“Ryou, don’t,” Yugi hissed, violet eyes more than a little frightened. No one had noticed the vendor dead on the floor or them escaping, yet. The market was loud, crowded, and full of self-absorbed humans, but they wouldn’t have long to escape.

 

Ryou rubbed Yugi behind his ear. “It’s okay. Go to the underground. You’ll be safe.”

 

Ryou raced down the street. He ran much faster than a human and soon caught up to the stranger’s scent. He noticed the stranger boarding a small spacecraft and Ryou followed, stowing away into the spaceship by a small maintenance shaft. Ryou squirmed his way through the engine bay - not wanting to be near it when the ship took off, and hid in a storeroom until he was sure they were far away from the wretched market before he went to search for the stranger.  

 

The man in the scarlet robe had his feet propped up, too occupied in a game of solitaire to notice Ryou until the little, white neko crawled into his lap.

 

“What the hell!” He jerked, but couldn’t move much considering Ryou was in his lap.

 

“I wanted to thank you,” Ryou said, tail still swishing.

 

“Yeah, great. You’re welcome. Now get off my lap.”

 

“Do you always cause revolts like that? Or are you just fond of albios?”  Ryou ran his hand along the stranger’s dark-tanned arm. “Your hair is white, but your skin is dark.”

 

“Look. I just hate the system, all right? Maybe the Pharaoh says it’s the way of nature that some species rule while others serve, but I think that’s shit. So I cause trouble whenever I can.”

 

Ryou smiled. “I like you.”

 

“You need to get the fuck off of my lap now.”

 

“Nekos don’t have courting rituals like humans do. We mate whenever our instincts tell us to.” He leaned a little closer. “And right now, my instincts tell me that you don’t really want me off of your lap.”  

 

“Last thing I need is some fuzzy kitten following me around. You’re free now. Go. Shoo.”

 

Ryou shook his head. “I’m not free. Not until every single one of my people are free. Not until the Pharaoh and his Council are dead.”

 

A dark, bitter laughter shook the man’s chest and he slipped his arms around Ryou’s waist. “Okay. Now you have my attention. What was that about killing the Pharaoh?”

 

“As long as he’s alive, as long as he has supporters in positions of power, there will be slaves. We’ve been planning revolution for years. Your little stunt actually forced our hand a few days early.” Ryou pressed his lips next to the human's ear. “Get me past security. Offer me as a present to the Pharaoh, and I’ll cut his throat as quick and easy as I did that bastard at The Market.”

 

The human turned so that his face brushed against Ryou’s hair. “You know what? I’ve decided that I like you as well.”  

 

“Good.” Ryou started kissing the human’s neck. “I have contacts with the underground. They can give us access to guard schedules, security codes, things we need to get through alive - won’t do for us to die before the Pharaoh.”  

 

Ryou’s little human seemed too distracted to talk as Ryou kissed his neck. He tilted his head back, giving the neko better access to cinnamon-colored flesh. Ryou moved down the man’s chest, curious as he explored smooth skin with very little fur. He slipped off the red robe. Beneath it, the man only wore an indigo wrap around his waist.

 

“You don’t dress like other humans.” Ryou pulled at the cloth and watched it fall to either side of the man sitting in the chair.

 

“I lived on a small planet,” he whispered, even as Ryou kissed along his body. “We were-” he snorted, and Ryou could smell the anger floating off of his skin, “-primitive. Not as technologically advanced as other planets, but because of that we had a lot of resources.”

 

“Resources the Pharaoh wanted for his own kingdom.”

 

“They killed almost everyone, sold the rest as indentured workers - said we were paying for our travel expenses off of the planet. They never asked if we wanted off of the planet in the first place. I worked. I earned my freedom. I’ve been freeing slaves and other indentured servants ever since.”  

 

“Shhhh, shhhh,” Ryou slipped off his own robes, revealing white skin and white fur in different areas. “Didn’t I say I’d take good care of you? And I will.”  

 

Ryou’s pet human made a distracted noise, a mix of past pain and current want. He reached down to a compartment in the chair a pulled out a strange pouch. It took Ryou a moment to realize what it was, but he figured it out when the human squeezed out clear gel from the pouch and rubbed himself with it. As soon as he was covered, Ryou lifted up his hips and impaled himself on the human’s erection.

 

The man grunted, and Ryou began to purr as he lifted his hips and settled back down, repeating the motion until he had a steady rhythm going. His human’s face flushed with their movements. Ryou thought the strangely human response was endearing, and he nuzzled the man’s cheek  with his nose, feeling the heat radiate from the skin.

 

Sweat beaded around the man’s temples and chest, a few drops rolled down his neck. Ryou didn’t sweat, but he panted hard and fanned himself with his tail.

 

“We’ll probably die,” the human said between groans of pleasure. “The royal guards are infamous.”

 

“I’d rather die fighting than live as a house pet or a pillow slave. If we cause enough trouble before they kill us the word will spread, and a thousand will pick up where we left off.”  

 

“Ngh.” The man held Ryou’s waist tighter, leaning forward a bit.

 

Ryou took it as a sign to speed up. He’d been going slow because he didn’t want over too quickly, but the tension in his own loins demanded that Ryou pick up the pace. He knew the human enjoyed the change in speed because he deep-throated grunts became small, open-mouthed screams.

 

“Better than a human, yeah?”

 

For this, the man had no answer, only more moans and cries, and drops of sweat glistening off of his dark-skinned body. He slipped one of his hands away from Ryou’s waist and grabbed Ryou’s erection, jerking his hand back as soon as he touched it.

 

“Why-”

 

“You didn’t know?” Ryou asked. “All nekos are like that. The nodes help females ovulate.” Ryou grabbed the human’s hand and placed it back on his erection, helping the human stroke.

 

“Does it hurt your women?”

 

“No, we’re not barbed like cats. Our nodes stimulate the nerves.” Ryou chuckled. “I’ll show you next time. You’ll like it.”  

 

A curious grin marred the human's face as he squeezed Ryou's shaft. Ryou's purrs grew loud and fierce.  He could feel the vibrations travel all the way through his body, adding to their simulation.

 

The little neko's tail stuck straight in the air as he threw his head back and mewled. He couldn't ride after that, all the energy felt drained from him, but the human didn't complain. He lifted Ryou up and set him back down on the side table. Cards scattered to the floor, but neither headed them as Ryou's liberator continued to slam into Ryou's body until his own climax forced him to drop back into his chair. They panted for breath, glancing at each other.

 

Ryou stood up and slipped back into his robes as the human dressed. Afterward, Ryou curled up in a secondary chair and started to groom the whiskers hidden near his ears, tail still fanning himself to get his body temperature back to normal.

 

The human laughed. “Really?”

 

If Ryou had the human ability to blush - he would have turned pink. “Don’t you dare laugh at me.”

 

He held up his hands as if to ward of the neko’s wrath, but continued to laugh. “Okay, okay.  So . . . we have a revolution to start. Where to first?”

 

 


	8. Puzzleshipping/ KeyHolder (Dom!Yugi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Thor94 prompted "i would like a lemon involving yugi (a rough one with bdsm, not lovey dovey like most of fic)"
> 
> I actually researched BDSM for several hours to write this (because I didn't feel like I knew enough about bdsm to properly write about it in a fic), so I hope this turned out. It's not really "rough" but it's not "lovey dovey" either. It's more like subtle (but precise) power play. Hopefully it's risque enough to be satisfactory as far as the prompt goes.***

He had a Pharaoh kneeling before him. Some might have thought of the power that gave them, some might have only anticipated the upcoming pleasure, but all Yugi thought of was how beautiful Atem looked. The dim lights wavered across his pecan colored skin and reflected in the deep fuchsia of his irises.

Yugi wore black leather boots that laced up to his mid thighs and similar gloves, though his fingers were bare. He also wore a black sleeveless vest with metal snaps down the front. Where once the Puzzle hung from his neck, he now donned a specific key, but that was all he wore - boots, gloves, vest, and key.

Atem wore less, a white, leather bondage sleeve that strapped around his shoulders - secure but not so tight that it restricted blood-flow - and held his arms behind his back. The sleeve was paired with a chastity cage with a transparent tube. Though white and black, the colors were not symbolic in anyway. They both simply liked the contrast to their skin tones when they picked out their outfits together when they planned the scene.

Yugi loved planning the scenes as much as he loved acting them out. Cuddling together on the couch, outlining their fantasies out loud and shopping together online for props was a sort of foreplay, and Yugi could never rid himself of the butterflies in his stomach between the time the planned out the scene and the time they acted it out.

Currently, Yugi was training Atem to be more humble - smirks, smug comments, and haughty gestures would be disciplined with chastising. Yugi learned early on that a disapproving frown did more for correcting Atem's behavior than any amount of flogging or spanking ever could. Likewise, a sweet word or caress was all it took to make Atem's eyes light up, pleased that he'd done a proper job satisfying his  _aibou_.

Atem knelt halfway across the room with his eyes focused on the floor below him.

"Atem," Yugi spoke softly.

His name spoken out loud was the signal for Atem to look up. He kept his body low, back straight, head facing the floor, but lifted his eyes up to look at Yugi for instruction. Yugi rewarded him with a warm, loving smile, beckoning with a single finger for Atem to come closer. It wasn't easy, on his knees and with his arms laced behind his back, but Atem managed to shift himself forward while keeping his head down.

When he settled close to Yugi, Yugi reached out and stroked his fingers through Atem's soft hair. "Look up."

Atem obeyed, and Yugi rewarded him by brushing his finger across Atem's bottom lip. Atem's lips parted and Yugi knew he wanted to be kissed, but he hadn't earned it yet - the kissing was part of their end game plan - so Yugi dropped his finger away and resisted his own urges to taste Atem's pink lips. Instead, Yugi ran his pointer finger up his own thigh. Without a word or hesitation, Atem began to kiss Yugi near the knee and trailed his kisses -  _slowly, slowly, slowly_  - up Yugi's thigh.

"Good," Yugi sighed. The anticipation and soft kisses already had him hard, but Yugi didn't want to rush the beginning of their scene, so he trailed his finger up his stomach next, watching as Atem's kisses follow their intended path. Without arms or hands to steady himself, Atem had to balance just so in order not to fall.

Yugi had him work his way down, to the muscles in Yugi's left thigh, to the leather covering his knee and shin. All the way down until Atem hovered above the ground as he kissed the toe of Yugi's boot.

"Good. Now back up," Yugi said, always keeping his voice calm although he was excited.

As Atem rose back up along the leather of Yugi's calf, he looked up, his fuchsia eyes catching Yugi's violet ones.

Yugi grabbed a fist's worth of Atem's spiked hair and pulled his head back. "You looked up without permission."

"Sorry, aibou."

"Why did you look up?"

"I wanted to look at you."

"Look at me? Wasn't the part of me you were kissing worth looking at?"

"Yes, aibou."

Yugi let go of Atem's hair and sat back. He lifted up his boot clad legs and used Atem's shoulders as a foot rest.

"Look up and check in."

Atem lifted his head. "I'm good."

"Are my feet too heavy?"

Atem smiled - it wasn't against the rules during a check in. "No. You're not heavy at all."

"Okay then, eyes back down. Focus . . . right . . . here."

Yugi wrapped his hands around his erect shaft, sliding his hands up and down with slow, rhythmic flicks of his wrist. This was Atem's punishment for breaking one of their rules.

Yugi's breath hitched as he made an intentional show of pleasuring himself. "Do you wish - it was you making me - gasp?"

"Yes, aibou."

"Yes, you do. And do you know why you're not pleasing me right now?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I broke the rules, aibou."

"That's right." Yugi's breath came out in shallow pants as his speed increased. He liked the feel of touching himself with the gloves on, the soft skin of his fingers and the smooth feel of the leather covering his palms. "Let's hope you behave better from now on."

After a few minutes of stroking himself, Yugi let go of his shaft in order to calm down. He could feel his cheeks burning and even as he released himself, his cock twitched from want of stimulation. Atem stayed on his knees, arms laced behind his back, shoulders supporting the weight of Yugi's thick, black books, eyes aimed right where Yugi told them to to focus, and he looked so beautiful when he behaved.

Yugi moved his feet, shifting his body so that his legs could hang on the arms of the low chair on which he sat. This spread him out wide. He leaned forward, beckoning Atem to approach him once again.

Atem came so close that Yugi could feel the heat of his breath against the bare skin of his upper thigh. Yugi drew a line on his skin for Atem to kiss. This time he allowed Atem to get much closer to his groin. Right before he reached the base of Yugi's cock, Yugi grabbed the back of Atem's head, tangling his fingers in Atem's hair and pulling back in order to force Atem's eyes up. He looked dazed with lust, and Yugi loved when his partner looked so completely lost.

"Would you like to taste me?"

Atem's mouth dropped a little at the suggestion. His breathing was light and shallow. "Y-yes, aibou."

Yugi situated Atem's mouth over his cock, using the former Pharaoh's hair like puppet strings in order to control Atem's movements. Yugi's eyes shut and he leaned his head back. He couldn't take long on the indulgence or Atem would sneak glances up when Yugi wasn't looking, but the initial burst of wet heat was too glorious not to take a quick second for himself to enjoy it. Yugi shifted again, planting his boot heels into the chair arms so he could lift and lower his hips. His view consisted of his own leather dressed chest, a patch of white stomach, Atem's tri-colored burst of hair, and the white leather sleeve binding Atem's arms behind his back. This was all framed by Yugi's thin legs digging into the chair arms.

"Deeper," Yugi whispered, pushing Atem's head a little lower. Yugi felt his thighs quiver and knew he didn't have much longer left.

He lasted a few more minutes, but then his hold on Atem's hair tightened. Yugi held his breath as he came into the back of Atem's throat.

He sat there a moment, hands dropping away from Atem's hair. "You have permission to look at me," Yugi said as he worked on calming his racing heart.

During vanilla sex Atem would grin to see Yugi flushed from post-orgasm, but they were in a scene and he knew better than to break the rules twice. Atem watched Yugi's face, his eyes shining.

"What would you like?"

Atem leaned closer, his voice a quiet breath sifting from his lips. "Kiss me."

Yugi stood up, helping Atem into the chair sitting side saddle in his lap. Yugi crossed his legs. The black boots made them look much longer than they actually were. Yugi leaned closer, lingering just out of reach for a teasing moment before darting out his tongue and licking along Atem's bottom lip. Atem sighed and closed his eyes. Yugi kept their kisses soft, melting into the moment and forgetting about time until Atem's breathing became waton and urgent between each press of lips.

"Ready to finish?"

Atem made a needy sound, shoulders straining a little in their harness.

Yugi pulled the key away from his neck, dangling it in front of Atem as if to hypnotize him. "I'd like a proper response to my question."

"Please, aibou." Atem's voice rasped in his throat, hoarse and trembling.

With a turn of his wrist and a click, Yugi unlocked the little brass lock keeping Atem's crotch bound up. He slipped off the tube and ring binding Atem's cock. The moment the tube came free, Atem's shaft lifted up. Yugi set everything aside.

Without a word, he grabbed the back of Atem's head, continuing their earlier bout of making out. Only this time, Yugi's right hand slipped between Atem's legs. Atem called out. As soon as Yugi touched him, he became incapable of doing anything with his lips but opening them wide and shouting.

Yugi dropped down to Atem's neck, sucking on the almond colored skin until it bruised. Atem writhed in his seat. With Yugi on top of him and the sleeve pinning his arms, Atem was powerless to do anything  _but_ writhe.

"A-aibou! Aibou!" Atem screamed as he sprayed his entire chest with white.

"Well done  _Mou Hitori no Boku_." Yugi lifted up his hand and Atem licked the semen's from Yugi's fingertips.

 


	9. Seto/ Auto-Erotica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "a" came up with this prompt . . . but I messed up the prompt (got some of the details confused) and didn't follow it very well. Sorry, my bad.

The rock shower was the size of most people's bathrooms. Natural rock lined the walls and living moss and ferns grew near clusters of decorative rock.  The water tumbled down as a waterfall and Seto Kaiba stood beneath the stream running his fingers through his wet hair. He dragged his fingertips down his throat and chest. When he reached his stomach, he grazed his nails along the soft flesh, causing himself to shiver.

 

One hand teased his thigh while the other cupped his balls. He worked himself up to a frenzy before he even began. By the time an errant finger strayed up his shaft, Seto couldn't help but moan.

 

Beside the water flow was a small pool - a bath to compliment the shower.  Seto press a button hidden within the rock in order to turn off the shower.  Another button activated the jet streams in the bath, and yet another turned the entire shower into a sauna.

 

Seto eased into the bubbling water, sighing as the jet hit the sore muscles in his back. He pinched his left nipple and twisted hard, gasping.  His left hand raked up his thigh. He wanted to cum. He wanted to grab his shaft and jerk on it as fast and hard as he could until he was spent and laying limp in the water, but he refused to end it. He'd worked twelve hour shifts to launch several new projects and this was his first evening all week to himself and he was going to make this moment last.

 

He reached over and grabbed a bottle of "dragon cum". The lube was cloudy and a little repulsive looking, but Seto thought it was entertaining. He had a custom - made solely for him by a private order - Blue Eyes White Dragon penetrable toy, but if he used that he'd be done in two minutes. Instead, Seto grabbed his Red Eyes Black Dragon vibrator - also single edition and privately made.

 

Seto drizzled the cum over the ridges and nodes of the dong's shaft and head. He shoved his fingers in first, trying to coat his entrance with lube. Then he held the vibrator with both hands and shoved it up his own ass, groaning as his insides lit up with imaginary dragon's fire. He never bothered prepping himself.  The burn had a certain allure and it was easier to adjust to a toy than a lover since Seto controlled the movement himself.

 

Already breathing heavy, Seto fumbled for the button to turn on the vibrations. The vibe had five settings - three speeds plus two pulse options.  Seto always started with the second pulse option, rapid, quick bursts.  

 

Still holding the fake dragon cock with two hands, Seto began fucking himself with the seven inch vibrator. He pressed the you as deep as it would go, until he felt the vibrations against his prostate. Keeping the Dragon chick in deep, Seto eased the tension just enough to give him room to push back in.

 

He threw back his head, choking on a moan and impaling himself until all the small muscles in his chest and shoulders ached. Seto's left hand slid up to his balls. He rolled them in his palms; the current from the jets made the feeling more intense. By the time Seto reached his cock his was squirming for release.

 

He used firm, full-handed strokes on himself, feeling the way his head engorged as he neared climax. A moment before he tumbled over the edge, Seto released his hand.

 

He gasped for air, sweating into the already warm water. Seto lifted himself out of the bath and onto the cooler rock floor. The vibe still hummed inside him and he changed it to the other pulse seeing - three quick bursts and then a long drawl.

 

He pressed deep, hitching his hips up into the session. Wet bands clung to Seto's forehead and his porcelain skin glowed a healthy pink.  He couldn't tease himself any longer. Seto grabbed his erection and allowed himself to climb right back to the peak he'd been avoiding.

 

Near the edge of climax he hovered, body exhausted, the muscles in his ass shaking from clenching them for so long. Seto held his breath, thinking of how shameless he must look fucking himself on the rock floor.  He liked the visual fantasy, the site of himself from a bird's eye view, muscles taut and limbs quivering.

 

Then, in a haze of pleasure and self gratification, Seto thought of how another body would look between his legs. Perhaps it was because he was using a Black Eyes vibrator, but he instantly thought of shaggy, blonde hair and a nose slightly crooked from street fighting.

 

With his cheeks burning from the thought, Seto's hips face a final jerk upwards as he came in a white arc.

 

When it was all over Seto scowled at his last thoughts. Had he really just finished himself off to thoughts of sleeping with that mutt? Seto decided to tuck that one under thoughts one should take to the grave.

 

After rinsing everything off, Seto slipped back into the tub so he could relax, trying to recover as much as he could until Monday came and he'd have to repeat the entire process of meetings and reports for another week.

 

 


	10. Toonshipping/ Gentlemen's Agreement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd have time to look this one over, but the angst-level at work today was over 9,000, so not so much. This prompt was from supersteffy: "Pegasus and Kaiba during a meeting discussing the newest batch of Duel Monsters cards and integrating them into the Duel Disk card bank.

Once a golden eye stared out from behind strands of silver hair, but now there was only a white, silk patch with MP embroidered in golden thread. He still wore scarlet, but - like Seto - his jacket was slung around the chair beside him, his tie hung loose around his neck, and the top three buttons on his dress shirt were undone. It was an informal business meeting between the two of them. The remnants of a sashimi dinner and sake sat in the center of the table beside them and it was well past one in the morning; however, there was too much work to be done, so they sat reviewing cards to be added to the Duel Disk's hologram bank for the upcoming fiscal year.

Pegasus tossed the clip board on the table, rubbing his forehead. "Okay, that's all of them."

Kaiba leaned back in his own chair, closing his eyes. "You'd think after all these years we'd have thought of a more efficient system for doing this."

"Remember two years ago when we tried doing it all automatically by networking our systems?"

"I told you to  _never_  bring that year up again."

Pegasus smiled. "Yes, you've told me multiple times, which is why I like to remind you." He shook his head. "Kaiba Boy, for all your technological advances, some things need pens and clipboards."

Kaiba wadded up a sheet of scrap paper and threw it at Pegasus for the  _Kaiba Boy_  remark. His  _boyhood_ , for all it had ever been, was long behind him.

Pegasus poured himself another glass of sake and shot it down in a single gulp.

"That is not the proper way to drink sake."

"It is after working thirty six hours straight."

"Damn, Max, take a nap or something. Even trading-card tycoons need  _some_  sleep."

Pegasus sighed. "Jet lag."

Kaiba snorted, standing up and strolling behind Pegasus' chair. He shifted the long, silver strands away from Pegasus' neck and started to knead his shoulders.

Pegasus exhaled and small sound of approval. "Hey Seto, remember two years ago?"

"No. I told you no."

"Not  _everything_  was bad about that year." Pegasus smirked.

"Rent a girl."

Pegasus snorted. "I'm not in the  _mood_  for a girl."

Kaiba chuckled. "Rent a boy."

He glanced over his shoulder so he could look at Kaiba directly. "I'm not in the mood for a  _boy_  either."

Kaiba let go of Pegasus' shoulders to button up his shirt. "Shouldn't have called me 'Kaiba Boy' then."

Pegasus waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Don't be catty, Seto."

"Grab your damn jacket and let's go. I want to get at least a few hours of sleep before tomorrow's board meeting." Kaiba shook his head. "Damnit, I hate fourth quarter."

"That's why I'm here to help you relax." Pegasus stood up and slung his jacket over his shoulder. He didn't bother fixing his tie or buttons. Seto rolled his eyes as he put on his own suit coat, smoothing it over so not a single wrinkle showed.

"Do we need to stop by a pharmacy?"

Pegasus flicked his hair behind his shoulder. "When have I ever been unprepared?"

Pegasus' hotel was a block away from the Kaiba Corp main office. Inside Pegasus' room, he fixed two glasses of scotch on the rocks and handed one to Seto.

Seto sipped on the drink as he looked around. "They all look the same, don't they?"

"Hotel rooms?" Pegasus glanced around. "More or less."

"Ever get sick of it?"

"All the time." Pegasus shrugged. " _C'est la vie."_

"Indeed." Kaiba snorted, finishing his drink and setting the crystal glass on the counter near the sink in the kitchen nook. He undressed and hung his suit in Pegasus' closet.

Pegasus was a little less careful, tossing his clothes over the back of a chair and sitting on the edge of his bed. He reached for the suitcase still on the bed, pulling out a toiletry case and retrieving a 2 oz bottle of lube and a condom. He slid the suitcase off of the bed, set the lube on the nightstand, and beckoned Kaiba forward.

Seto rubbed his shoulders again, standing in front of him while he sat on the bed. As Kaiba massaged Pegasus' shoulders, Pegasus jerked on Kaiba's prick until it was hard. Pegasus opened the condom packet with his teeth, placing the latex circle between his lips and using his mouth to roll the condom down Kaiba's erection. He grinned at Kaiba on his way back up, rolling over to the middle of the bed and pushing himself up on hands and knees. His hair fell down his back and over his shoulders like streams gone silver with late-night starlight.

Kaiba grabbed the lube and knelt behind Pegasus on the mattress. "Want me to prep you?"

"Kaiba, please." Pegasus said the words as if Kaiba had challenged his bottoming prowess. "This is hardly my first time."

Kaiba shrugged as he poured lube over both of them. "Just thought I'd offer."

Pegasus tossed his head back a little. "You're a true gentleman and a paragon of chivalry. Now kindly shove yourself inside me and start pounding."

"You're quite the poet." Kaiba drove his hips forward.

Pegasus cooed as Kaiba moved his hips back and forth. His heat encased Seto's erection, making Seto groan as he felt some of the stress and tension of work melt away. He held onto Pegasus' hips for balance. The bed moaned louder than they did, creaking with their every movement, but neither of them paid attention to the noise. They were too caught up in the act to care. Seto bent forward, grabbing a fist of Maximilian's hair and tugging his head back.

Pegasus' exhales were soft, breathy, and appreciative. Secretly, Kaiba though Pegasus looked debonair with the patch on, but he'd never compliment the fop out loud because Pegasus would never let Kaiba live it down. The hand still on Pegasus' hip wandered down his outer thigh, and then back up his inner thigh. Kaiba squeezed Pegasus' erection, earning another coo of pleasure.

Kaiba pulled Pegasus' hair harder, until he saw Pegasus' nails dig into the sheets below them. His stroking became sloppy, unrhythmic, as his own climax approached. A few more minutes and Kaiba could only squeeze Pegasus' shaft, focusing on his own thrusts. Maxamillion pulled Seto's hand away and stroked himself until Seto pressed his face against Maximilian's back and came. As soon as his trembling stopped, Kaiba grabbed Pegasus' cock again and they both pumped him until he came as well. Only then did Seto pull out.

"Much better." Pegasus exhaled a long breath and eased down into the comforter.

Kaiba disposed of the condom and lay beside Pegasus. He crossed his arms around him and considered the ceiling.

After fifteen minutes or so, Maximilian peeked up with his good eye. "You're not sleeping. Why aren't you sleeping?"

Seto shrugged. "I don't know. I feel wired."

Maximilian laughed. "You must have absorbed my jet lag through osmosis."

"You're an idiot."

"I'm wounded by your harsh words . . . " Pegasus grinned, licking his lips. "Kaiba Boy."

 


	11. Timidshipping/ Watching the Sunset (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First clip of this fic is in the Cotton Candy Stand. Dang, I forgot to post this yesterday! Now my AO3 and FF net chapters are in a different order and that makes my head hurt . . .
> 
> Oh well, Timidshipping lemon requested by renecake426.

They made it to Yugi's room, but he never had a chance to grab his cards. As soon as Yugi shut the door, Serenity tangled her fingers into his colorful hair and kissed him. Yugi had to stand on his toes the facilitate the kiss.

"Oh," Yugi said when they finally broke for air. "I-I'm so dumb. I really thought you wanted to play cards."

Serenity's cheeks became brighter red than her hair. "I did. I thought we'd play in the kitchen or something, so when you took me up to your bedroom I, um, assumed . . ."

Yugi also blushed. "Joey and I always play Duel Monsters on the bed. I didn't even think what I was implying when I brought you up here."

"I'm sorry." Serenity hid her face with embarrassment.

"No, I'm sorry." Yugi grabbed her hands and pulled them away from her face.

They looked at each other, both wearing shy smiles and flushed cheeks that seemed to grow brighter the longer the silence dragged out.

"U-um . . ." Serenity whispered.

"Yeah, uh . . ." Yugi responded with an equally lacking grace.

As if they didn't know what else to do, both of them pressed their lips together at the same time. After the first one they pulled away and tried again, and then a third time. The kisses could have been considered chaste if they weren't given by burning, hasty lips and with too much force to be considered friendly. Yugi slide his hands from Serenity's wrists to her shoulders, trying his best to lean in closer for a better angel. Their noses bumped and they giggled and pulled away. Both of them stared at their shoes.

"I . . . um . . . maybe if we sat down?" Yugi suggested.

Serenity nodded, going straight for Yugi's bed instead of one of the bean bags nears his XBox. Yugi swallowed, sucked in a deep breath, and followed her, sitting down beside her. They managed a quick glance at each other, keeping their eyes opened as they leaned in close. This time, they didn't close their eyes until their lips brushed against each other.

All at once they figured it out, and their lips melded together. Serenity allowed herself to fall back on Yugi's bed, and he followed her down. For twenty minutes they kisses, and then Serenity's hands started exploring Yugi's chest and shoulders through the cotton of his t-shirt. He squeezed the comforter below them, resisting the urge to touch her in return. After another few minutes, Serenity slipped her hands below Yugi's shirt, and Yugi opened his mouth, gasping at her touch.

He looked at her, and she smiled at him. She slipped her hands from Yugi's shirt in order to grab the hem of her own and pull it away from her body. Yugi's violet eyes widened as he looked at Serenity. Her brace was white lace and only lace. He could see the soft, teasing pink of her nipples through material. When he did nothing but look, Serenity grabbed his left hand and made it cup her right breast. With the unspoken permission, Yugi began rolling her breast against his palm, feeling it swell and firm beneath his touch.

He buried his face between her breasts, kissing each creamy swell of skin. Yugi jerked up, eyes a little frightened. "Am I going to fast?"

"Yugi Motou," she teased him. "All these years you've been going too slow. Please don't hesitate any longer."

She spread her legs and shifted her hips up in order to slide the cream-colored skirt down her legs. Her panties matched her bra, frilly lace that covered and revealed both at the same time. Yugi watched for a moment, his breath faint and rapid, his manhood painfully tight against his jeans.

Serenity reached out and unzipped the Yugi's pants, relieving some of the pressure confining him. Yugi's resolve broke. If Joey murdered him later and buried him in a shallow, unmarked grave, Yugi could hardly blame him for it, but neither could he stop from slipping out of his pants and shirt and settling back on top of Serenity.

She wrapped her legs around him. The heat of her thighs sent shivers down Yugi's spine. He placed gentle, timid kisses against her throat, and trailed them down to her bra. His fingers fumbled beneath her until he hand the clasps undone and the bra on his bedroom floor. With her breasts free, Yugi rolled his tongue to her right nipple, flicking and flicking until she was bucking against him. Then he moved down to her panties, kissing along the band holding them in place. She was wet straight through the lace, and when Yugi tasted her she arched and sighed.

He used his fingers to pull the panties from her body, giving her a few more kisses between the legs before removing his own boxers. He wiped his mouth, self conscious, and settled back on top of her. She didn't give him time to hesitate or doubt himself, instead grabbing his cock by the back and guiding him straight to her.

He eased in by degrees until fully sheathed. He took a moment to allow the feeling to sink into his senses before he started a gentle rhythm. She breathed in time with his thrusts. He had to focus on his rhythm. If he stared too long at her swollen breasts or lips, allowed himself to become too absorbed in the way the muscles inside her squeezed and hugged his erection, then he would become undone and embarrass himself. Instead, he listened to her erotic breathing and kept his mind on his pace until she was pulling his hair and whimpering into his chest. Only then, with her body calm and relaxed and complete beneath him, did he allow himself to speed up and completely appreciate her warmth.

When they were both spent they lay in bed together. Yugi kissed her temples and toyed with strands of her long, auburn hair. They lay there until he almost fell asleep, and then Serenity pressed a kiss into his chest and hopped up.

"Sorry, I need to go."

"Go? Why? Don't go." Yugi sat up, blinking back awake.

"I have to work in the morning." She shimmied back into her panties and bra before replacing the skirt and shirt. "All my clothes and stuff are back at my place."

"But, still . . ." Yugi muttered, feeling a little bit like a jerk for not thinking ahead better.

She sat on the bed, ruffling his hair. "We can hang out again sometime, maybe?"

Yugi sighed and gave her a sheepish smile. "No, not hang out. Let me take you to dinner."

Her cheeks flared pink. "That would be nice.." She gave his lips a quick kiss before standing up and disappearing through the door.


	12. Dangershipping/ (Bottom!Seto BDSM)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LadyKaiba27 wanted a tied-up and gagged Seto with one of the villains. Here's the first of two, Yami Marik x Seto. This isn't as hardcore as she wanted, but hopefully it's a fun read all the same. Edited? Gracious no. Feel free to point out typos and I'll fix them ASAP.

No one would have guessed that the man walking down the apartment hallway in ripped jeans and a hoodie was Seto Kaiba. Even if someone he knew saw him, they wouldn't recognize him in casual clothing and mussed, unbrushed hair, and that was exactly the point. The press didn't need to know about his personal life, and Seto intended to ensure that they never learned about it.

The apartment complex wasn't in the worse part of town, nor was it in a good part of town, but that worked to their favor. No one knew who lived here except Ryou - who'd helped the dark soul get the apartment in the first place.

Seto stopped in front of a door that looked like all the others, only the number differentiating it from its counterparts, and knocked. The door opened and Seto saw eyes so vibrant that they looked like shards of lavender stained glass. The hair also looked like broken shards - only gold instead of lavender. He nodded and stepped aside so Seto could enter the apartment building.

He'd been there once before, two weeks ago for introductions and to plan the scene. Ryou had been insisting, for quite awhile, that they both expand their social horizons, and they finally submitted to his wishes. They always submitted to Ryou's wishes. That's why Ryou was so good at what he did. Seto was a little reserved about trying a new Dom, but Ryou had trained Mariku himself, and there was a certain . . . appeal to trying a scene with someone so potentially dangerous.

Mariku handed Seto a glass of brandy. Seto accepted it with a nod and sat on the red, suede couch in the living room, crossing his legs and sipping the liquor. He had until he set the empty glass down on the coffee table - that was Mariku's cue to begin. One glass of brandy to fully commit or chicken out, but Seto Kaiba wasn't one to back away. He relaxed into the furniture and looked around. The apartment was smothered with ferns and ivy, plants that thrived in the shade. He wonder if they'd been Mariku's choice, or an ironic joke of Ryou's choosing. Nonetheless, the dim apartment and myriad plants gave the place a calming effect, which was probably the point, to keep the dragon sleeping. Seto smiled at the metaphor; he was rather fond of dragons.

"Nervous?" The former darkness smirked, but it only made him look attractive.

"No," Seto replied, and it was true, he wasn't nervous although perhaps excited was a proper word. He downed the last taste of brandy and toyed with the cup. Seto could see a slight ripple in Mariku's shoulder muscles as he tensed, watching Seto's hand and the glass. Seto ran his fingertip along the glass's lip, drawing out the moment and keeping his soon-to-be-tormentor in suspense.

Then he set down the glass and Mariku was on him like a beast, tearing the clothes away from Seto's body before Seto could so much as catch a breath. Seto had planned to struggle, but he'd never gotten the opportunity because Mariku was so quick. After stripping him, Mariku stood above Seto and leered. "Now, what to do with the little bird I've caught?"

That was Seto's que to bolt. He lept over the back of the sofa and ran down the hallway towards the back room. Mariku followed him straight over the sofa, slamming Seto against the hallway wall.

He leaned against Seto's naked back, clucking disapprovingly into Seto's ear. "No escaping now." Mariku grabbed both of Seto's wrists and lifted them up.

Seto saw that Mariku managed to trap him exactly where the manacles had been installed. After securing his wrists, Mariku spread Seto's legs wide, and fastening similar restrictions on his ankles. The wrist cuffs were directly attached to the wall; however, the ankle shackles has a short chain to give Seto some, but limited, movement. Mariku grabbed the back of Seto's hair, tugging it sideways to expose Seto's neck. Mariku placed several soft, endearing kisses on Seto's skin. "You be good and stay here. I'll be back when I feel like it."

He left Seto alone. Seto pressed his forehead against the wall, trying to suppress the giddy eager feeling trembling inside of him. After a few minutes later, Mariku returned. He had a small jar filled with ointment, and proceeded in applying dabs around Seto's wrists and ankles. He grinned as he worked the ointment into Seto's skin. "Won't do to have ugly red welts on my pretty new pet."

Seto resisted the urge to laugh.

Mariku seemed to sense Seto's amusement. He grabbed Seto's hair again, turning him so that their noses almost brushed together. "Did you have something to say, little bird?"

Seto shook his head no as best he could in Mariku's grip.

"Oh good, I'd hate to have to punish you." He closed his eyes and leaned closer to Seto's mouth. Mariku's teeth gently bit Seto's bottom lip. He pulled with care, not breaking the skin of Seto's lip, but always keep enough pressure for the threat of it. His tongue replaced his teeth, running along the crescents his teeth left inside Seto's inner lip.

His toying turned into proper - and amazing - french kissing. This surprised Seto, and he found himself submitting to Mariku on a much deeper level than he'd planned, cursing Ryou as it happened for teaching Mariku to be so thorough in his role of dominate.

By the time Mariku pulled away they were both flushed and panting. Mariku smirked, slapping Seto's ass with a loud clap. "Well, I'm going to take a shower. You stay here."

Seto groaned. They'd planned it all out, but Seto hadn't expected himself to be so ready so quickly, or he would have never suggested they drag things out to add to the suspense. All he could do was wait, strapped to the wall, and listen the the shower run in the bathroom right behind him. It was a quick shower. The door opened and steam caressed Seto's back.

"You're still there. What a good caged bird you are," Mariku said in a mocking voice, as if Seto had a way to escape. "You deserve a reward for staying put." He disappeared into his bedroom and reappeared half a minute later with a ball gag in his hands. He inserted the gag into Seto's mouth and tied it back, whispering with a menacing voice, "we don't want you screaming too much, do we? It'd be a shame if the police interrupted."

Yes, Seto thought, a damn shame. Seto's erection pulsed against the cool wall in front of him. He wanted stimulation; he wanted it that moment. It wouldn't do to have anyone knock on the door during their game.

Seto exhaled through his nose when lube-cold fingers shoved inside him. He tried slamming his ass backwards to deepen the touch, but that only earned a hand pressed against his back to hold him in place.

"Not until you deserve it," Mariku purred, and Seto didn't need to look back to see that he grinned.

The torture only lasted a minute and then Mariku held Seto's waist, guiding Seto's feet back a few centimeters. He crammed his full length into Seto without warning and Seto screamed, closing his eyes and breathing hard through his nose. Each slam of Mariku's hips sent jolts from Seto's back to his groin, and the sensation made Seto's toes curl.

Only one thing bothered Seto, he couldn't swallow with the ball gag in his mouth and it was making spit dribble down his chin. It annoyed him, enough so that he tapped the heel of his foot against Mariku's shin - twice, it meant Seto needed to talk for a moment.

With a small grunt, Mariku pulled out, sucking in a few quick breaths before undoing the gag. Seto swallowed and wiped his mouth against his own shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Mariku asked.

"Drop the gag. I don't like it."

Mariku tossed the ball gag down the hall towards his room. "Done. Anything else, my pet?"

Seto shook his head no. He was impatient to have Mariku back inside of him, but knew better than to give an order to his current master.

"Then, where were we?" Mariku sang in a teasing voice, ramming back into Seto. "Ah yes." He slammed into him once again. "Right. Here."

Seto gasped, trying not to scream now that he no longer had the gag, but it was hard not to shout when Mariku's every thrust seemed to strike Seto's prostate.

Mariku wrapped his arms around Seto's middle, purring against Seto's neck. "Does my little bird want to sing?"

He shoved into Seto again, and Seto did give out a little cry, though straggled and repressed.

Mariku slid his hands down lower, grabbing Seto's erection with both his hands. "Sing for me, little caged bird."

A minute latter Seto was calling out, indifferent to who may hear him through the walls. He would have collapsed if Mariku hadn't help his waist again, pumping faster and reaching his own climax. Afterward, Mariku nuzzled the back of Seto's neck. Like the kissing, it was unexpected, but not unwelcomed.

Mariku spoke into the back of Seto's neck, sounding awkward and bashful, the scene was over and with it, the commanding, slightly dangerous presence Mariku always projected seemed to peel back, revealing something sharp, but fragile, like the edge of a sheet of glass. "There's chevre and figs if you're hungry. You can help yourself to the brandy, or you can shower and leave if that suits you better." There was a pause, crisp and wonderfully drawn out before Mariku spoke again. "I'm going to take a nap. You're free to join me - if you're into that sort of thing."

He slipped a chain off of his neck with a key and unlocked the manacles and ankle cuffs. He inspected Seto's wrists and ankles for signs of chaffing, rubbing each to ease the stiffness from being bound. Once satisfied that nothing had left a mark - Seto couldn't afford to have signs of his favorite hobby show when he was at work - Mariku nodded and turned to go back to his bedroom, and Seto followed him.


	13. Antagoshipping/ Pranger and Paddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***LadyKaiba27's other Seto bondage fic . . . all I can say is I'm sorry that this is too mellow. I've decided I can't write kink any better than I can write fluff, and secretly-a-slut-for-affection!Yami-Bakura is the only Yami Bakura I know how to write. And for some reason this Antagoshipping is full of implied Euroshipping (that's Revengineer's fault).
> 
> A pranger is that medieval wooden stock thing that they'd clamp people's neck and hands into in the village square to publicly shame them, but the one they're using in the fic is lower to the ground so Seto can be on his knees instead of just bent over (that seemed more comfortable for sex). ***

Seto walked into his office, but before his hand could find the lightswitch, a knife rested against his throat. A slight roll of his eyes revealed Seto’s annoyance, but his face and tone remained calm. “How did you get in here?”

 

“Broke in.”

 

“That’s impossible.”

 

The voice behind him chuckled “Then what am I doing here?”

 

Seto made a mental note to re-evaluate his security system and fire some people, but for the time being he asked, “What do you want?”

 

“You know what I want.”

 

Seto used his pointer finger to pushed the knife blade away from his throat so he could turn and look at Bakura. “Hurry up, then. I have work to do.”

 

“What? No foreplay?” Bakura mocked, batting his eyes and resting his free hand to his collarbone.

 

Seto wasn’t in the mood for Bakura’s shit. He decided to call Bakura’s bluff, grabbing his face and pulling him in for a kiss. They’d never kissed before; however, Seto had also slept with with Bakura’s other half, and his host never stopped kissing. Seto ran his tongue behind Bakura’s bottom lip, tracing down Bakura’s throat with his thumb. He smiled when Bakura shivered in the same way his counterpart did when Seto kissed him in the same way.

 

A loud crack broke the air from Bakura’s palm striking Seto’s cheek. Seto’s hand lifted up to the sting on reflex. He looked at Bakura, already flushed, and panting, and holding out his knife as if to protect himself. “You son-of-a-bitch.”

 

Seto smirked, slipping off his jacket and dropping it to the floor. “You liked that.”

 

“Like hell I did.”

 

“Ryou loves when I kiss him like that.”

 

“What the two of you do when it’s his turn doesn’t concern me.”

 

Seto took a step forward. He continued to undress as he spoke. “Let’s make a deal.”

 

Bakura stepped forward, lightning quick. Again, Seto found the knife against his throat. “I don’t have to negotiate with you.”

 

“Bakura, quit being dramatic and take off your clothes. You’re the one that came over to fool around, remember?”

 

Bakura chuckled, folding his knife and stripping. “What was your deal?”

 

Seto shrugged. “It’s simple - I let you do anything you want until you cum. Then, you give me the same curtesy.”

 

Bakura looked at him as if considering his proposition. Seto decided to sweeten the deal. “Have you ever seen Ryou’s toy chest?”

 

Bakura raised an eyebrow. Seto went to the corner of his office where a door hid behind shadows and a potted palm. He typed a code into the control panel near the door and then opened it. Instead the storage closet was of array of toys, accessories, and few more impressive items like a whip and a low-lying, wooden pranger.

 

“What the hell do you do with my host when I’m not around?”

 

Seto smirked. “Whatever he wants. He’s very . . . creative.”

 

Bakura scowled, as if the compliment to his host somehow challenged his own skill. “So you’re saying I can lock you up in this-” he patted the top board of the pranger with his foot, “-and then spank your ass with this-” Bakura grabbed a black, silver studded paddle, “-and you’ll just take it like a bitch until I cum?”

 

Seto rolled his eyes again. He should have known Bakura would go for two of the flashier objects. “Yes, but there are rules. No breaking the skin, no marks that I can’t easily cover up with clothes, and if I say red light you stop immediately.”

 

“Why red light? Why not say stop if that’s what you want me to do?”

 

Seto gave him a wry smile. “Ryou loves horror and role play. Stop usually means harder.”

 

Bakura pursed his lips. “I am having a talk with him when I get home.” He shook his head. “Okay. Deal.”

 

They dragged the pranger out into the center of the office. It looked old and medieval, but padding lined the inner circles that held the wrists a and neck in place so that whoever was locked within wouldn't be too uncomfortable during sex. Seto got down on hands and knees and allowed Bakura to lock him up.

 

Bakura smacked Seto's naked ass with an open palm. "This is going to be interesting."

 

Seto smiled. He agreed but for wholly different reasons. Bakura was making the novice mistake of placing the kink element foremost in their power play.  By the end of the night, however, Seto intended to give him a lesson in the more subtle elements.

 

Two lube-cold fingers squirmed into Seto’s body and began to scissor him. He took the initial discomfort in stride, already growing stiff from anticipation. Bakura was quick and unceremonious entering, but he made up for it with hard, sudden jolts of his hips that struck Seto’s mind numb with desire. He closed his eyes, balling his trapped hands into fists and feeling his bangs tickle his forehead.

 

Seto couldn’t help a surprised yelp when the first smack of the paddle burned his skin. Bakura timed each smack with a thrust until Seto saw searing, white sparks behind his closed eyelids. Only the stock trapping Seto kept him from taking himself in hand and cumming onto the polished, wood floor.

 

He heard a clatter, presumably Bakura dropping the paddle, and felt Ryou’s darker half grabbing him by the hips in order to thrust deeper. Bakura growled as he came, digging his nails into Seto’s hips. With a content sigh, Bakura dropped to the floor.

 

“Don’t welch,” Seto taunted the dark spirit that lay sweating and gasping for breath on Seto’s office floor.

 

“Fuck, half a moment to catch my breath.”

 

Seto felt the tightness around his neck a wrists lift as Bakura freed him. The first thing Seto did, was stare at his hips, ass, and outer thighs to make sure Bakura hadn’t broken any skin. A few bruises were already darkening on Seto’s skin, but it was nothing a pair of slacks couldn’t hide so he was content.

 

Seto crawled into Bakura’s lap, wrapping long, long legs around Bakura’s middle like a spider trapping pray. Seto drew their faces together, floating his lips just out of reach of Bakura’s ivory skin.

 

“What are you doing?” Bakura asked, his voice nervous.

 

“Whatever I want until I cum.” Seto started with light, feather kisses to Bakura’s jaw. He moved up with slow, conscious touching of his lips until he was teasing Bakura’s earlobe.

 

“This isn’t fucking,” Bakura hissed and then inhaled a sharp, quick breath. Seto could feel the tension in Bakura’s limbs and spine. Seto could only imagine how his tender behavior was worse than the first kiss, now that his brain was swimming with endorphins from his orgasim.

 

“But it is what I want.”

 

Bakura tried turning away, but that only revealed the wonderful blush highlighting his cheekbones and trailing down his neck. Seto kissed along the pulse-line of Bakura’s neck, noticing the way Bakura’s breathing sped up.

 

By the time Seto reached Bakura’s lips, caressing Bakura’s inner bottom lip with his tongue as he had before, Bakura was lost. His body relaxed, melded into Seto’s hold. His hands started to wander - soft brushes of his fingers over each bruise as if to erase them.

 

Seto didn’t have to ask Bakura to touch him; Bakura’s fingers explored Seto’s body until they found themselves wrapped around Seto’s hot, throbbing shaft. Bakura used his thumb to spread precum over the rest of Seto’s tip. It was almost too much, too sensitive, but Seto moaned into Bakura’s mouth and didn’t tell him to lighten his touch.

 

Bakura’s stroke were light and fast even as Seto’s kisses were deep and strong. They both moaned - Bakura from novelty and Seto from orgasim - and then Seto sank heavily into Bakura’s lap, leaning against a bone white shoulder for support as he recovered.

  
Bakura pressed his hands against Seto’s chest, as if to push him off. Bakura’s fingers trembled, but he didn’t seem to have the strength, or perhaps the will, to push away.


	14. Thiefshipping/ When The Lights Went Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when the power goes out in my apartment for 3 hours and I only have my cell phone for entertainment. No one prompted this (except perhaps God since a storm blew out the power).

As soon as the power went off, Marik screamed. Bakura jerked to his feet, a pocket knife in his hand and ready to fight whatever made Marik scream, but then a flicker of lightning outside the window calmed him down. "It's just a storm, Marik."

But Marik didn't stop. His wails melted into sobs. His sobs crescendoed into hyperventilation, and Bakura didn't know what to do.

He grabbed Marik by the shoulders, shaking him. "Hey. Hey! It's just a storm. Dammit, Marik, breath. Marik?"

"L-lights . . . I need . . . can't stand . . . d-dark." Marik openly cried, grabbing Bakura's wrists for support even as Bakura shook him.

Bakura's crimson eyes stared wide and shocked at Marik - Marik who never showed much of any emotion. Bakura's mouth hung open. For a moment he was paralyzed, almost frantic. Bakura looked around the room for answers, wincing whenever Marik gave a sharp cry between shattered breaths.

Bakura ran to the hallway, found some old candles, lit them, and set them in front of Marik.

"There," he said, a savage trying to appease a sun god with small offerings of light. "There Marik stop it."

"Not . . . not . . . enough." Marik jumped into Bakura's arms. Clawing at Bakura's shoulders with his finger tips. "Bakura, I can't stand it. It burns so badly. Make it stop. Please make it stop. Please."

"What? What Marik? What? I don't understand." Bakura shook his head. At this point he'd do anything to calm Marik down. He couldn't stand seeing his former partner in crime look so vulnerable. He wanted Marik's smirk back, and his demanding tone.

Marik's tears soaked into Bakura's shirt as he whispered. "My back. It feels - like the knife - is too hot."

Bakura ripped Marik's shirt off, touching the scars on Marik's back. His skin was hot from his hysterics, but not so hot that Marik should feel burning. Bakura continued to run his cool fingers along Marik's scars. "No, Marik. It's not. See? No knife. Just me."

Marik's sobs turned into soft whimpers as Bakura traced along his back. A small moan escaped Marik's lips. "Bakura," he whispered as if entranced.

Bakura, still in a bit of panic, spoke in a soothing tone as he caressed Marik's back. "It's alright, Marik. It's alright. I'm right here. Oh gods please stop crying."

The last sentences, spoken with such empathy that it sounded like Bakura felt Marik's pain with him, made Marik look up and face him. His eyes were brighter than supernovae, and Bakura gasped at the sight of how beautiful Marik was even in the midst of his agony.

Bakura wiped the last tears away from Marik's puffy, rosey cheeks. "There. It's okay. I promise," Bakura breathed the words almost into Marik's lips. "It's alright . . . It's okay . . . don't cry."

Marik plucked a kiss from Bakura's mouth, and then tasted his lips. Bakura kept his fingers light and delicate against Marik's back, afraid that letting go would undo whatever spell they seemed to be under. they'd fucked before, a thousand times they'd fucked before, but not like this. Only a soft kiss, but nothing they'd ever done to each other could compare to it, and now that he'd experienced the difference, Bakura wasn't sure he could ever go back how they were before.

Marik slipped his fingers beneath the cotton of Bakura's shirt, giving his back the same tender, affectionate caresses that Bakura lavished onto Marik's back. They exhaled against each other's lips, sucking in quick, desperate breaths before plunging into another kiss.

Marik slipped off Bakura's shirt and smoothed his throat with thick lips. "I need you," Marik's hot breath washed over Bakura's skin. "Bakura . . ."

Marik's words and breath made Bakura shiver. He grabbed Marik, laying him down against the carpet, on their shirts so that Marik's back didn't rub against the harsh carpet fibers. Marik opened his mouth to say something, but Bakura quieted him with a single, pressed finger to Marik's lips. "Stay here with the candles. I'll be right back."

He ran down the hall, heart racing as if he were in a battle. Bakura found their lube and another candle before he jogged back to the living room. He lit the fourth candle, adding its light to the room. "How's your back?"

Marik squirmed a little. "Sore. It only throbs now instead of burns." Marik looked away. "Um, Bakura-"

"Shhhh." Bakura didn't want Marik to apologize; he wanted Marik to bed him in the same way they had kissed. "I'm the same . . . with fires. I hate them." He wasn't sure why he said it, but he kept speaking as he settled down next to Marik. "It was fine when I had the Ring. Zorc numbed everything, but now . . ." Bakura shook his head; he couldn't think about it any longer.

"Bakura, come here." Marik beckoned.

Bakura leaned close. Their lips ghosted across each other as their hands struggled with their remaining clothing. Marik flipped their positions so that he floated above Bakura. "I've never wanted you this much before."

Bakura caressed Marik's cheek. He sat up and crawled into Marik's lap, keeping Marik's back exposed to the open air. He doused them with lube and then eased onto Marik's cock without preparing. Bakura breathed slow and deep as his mind processed the feel of Marik inside of him.

When he did move, it was deliberate and quick, pulling up and circling back down. Marik gasped and they stole quick kisses as Bakura circled his hips again. He moved faster, making himself gasp as he rode. Marik grabbed his waist, echoing each breath back into Bakura's mouth.

"Please don't stop," Marik whispered.

"I won't stop," Bakura sighed. "Not until you cum inside me."

He circled, circled, circled, never tiring at the thickness inside him. The need to cum possessed Bakura quick and without mercy. He couldn't speak, merely moan into Marik's mouth, so instead of asking to be touched, Bakura grabbed Marik's hand and placed it where he needed it to be.

Marik squeezed and kneaded Bakura until he felt the storm outside would somehow tear the roof of and suck them into the sky. Marik choked on Bakura's name - the lights springing to life as if his call summoned them.

Bakura gave little heed to the lights. He hovered on the edge and used the last moments of Marik's erection to rock himself into his own orgasm, strong, fulfilling, and complete. When he had the ability to look up, he glanced at Marik.

He looked boyish with joy, starting up at the ceiling light and grinning. He realized Bakura stared at him and their eyes met.

"You must think I'm a complete flake."

"I think . . ." Bakura didn't really know what to say. There were words he could have said, specific words he'd sworn he'd never say, but in the end he grabbed Marik and kissed him.

When they broke, Marik held Bakura's cheeks. "You really helped me get through that."

"Marik." He placed his hands on top of Marik's. "Lights on or off - we'll always be . . ." Bakura shrugged. "Partners. I'd help you through anything."

Marik's mouth dropped in utter shock. He stated at Bakura and then dragged their lips together for another kiss.

 


	15. Heartshipping/ BDSM (submissive Yugi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Sorry that I haven't posted anything in here for a while. I still have a list for the queue, so if you're waiting (thanks for waiting) then I having forgotten you, I'm just working on multiple things and got distracted from this. Thor94 req "hard bdsm with submissive yugi". Fair warning to everyone making a prompt - this is probably as "hardcore" as I am capable of writing. (So when you guys prompt, you might want to keep that in mind). Extreme S&M just isn't my scene (pun intended).
> 
> I borrowed the light system from A Single Shade by My Sweet Azaeleah. I really like the two chapters she wrote of that so far. Basically, instead of having an emergency safeword, you check in with the sub "blue light" means you're good to go, "yellow light" means slow down/talk, and "red light" means stop. (Just thought I'd mention that so you guys weren't wondering why Yugi keeps saying Blue). Also, a word you might not know - chaturanga. It's a yoga pose where you start in plank (push-up position) and go down like you're doing a push-up, but then hover as low to the ground as you can.***

Yugi gasped as Ryou slipped the lube-chilled, egg-sized vibrator inside of him. With a knowing grin, Ryou pushed a button and Yugi started to squirm as pleasant shivers shot up his spine from the vibrations inside him. Next, Ryou slipped a cockring over Yugi's balls.

"There. It'll take you awhile to cum with that on. You're so cute." Ryou crinkled his eyes as he smiled, a deceiving picture of innocence. He placed the vibe's remote control in his pocket - unlike Yugi, Ryou had all his clothes still on. From his other pocket, he pulled out a second remote control. This one he used to turn on a computer monitor mounted to the wall. Moans and the sounds of slapping skin boomed from the surround sound connected across the room as an image of a girl and two guys appeared on the screen.

Ryou settled in Yugi's lap, wrapping an arm around Yugi's neck. Yugi's cheeks flared up, not only was Ryou's rump pressed against Yugi's erection, but the weight of his body on Yugi's lap made the vibrations stimulating him from the inside even more intense. Yugi gave him huge, crayon-purple puppy-eyes, hoping Ryou would show some measure of mercy and stand up to reduce the pressure, but all Yugi's silent pleading seemed to accomplish was making Ryou squirm as if to find a comfortable spot, making it difficult for Yugi to stay still and quiet.

Ryou leaned closer, his breath a sultry tickle against Yugi's ear. "I think you'll like this porn. See her breast?" Ryou turned as if to admire the woman's form. "They're like honey-dew, aren't they?"

"Yes, _yadonushi_ ," Yugi said. He was never quite sure why Ryou choose to use the term landlord over sir or master. Yugi asked him, once, and Ryou gave him a rueful smile and said it was because it reminded him of his first love. But Yugi could never get the name of Ryou's first lover.

Ryou finally stood, and Yugi sighed in relief. "I'd like to hear any questions or concerns you have before I leave."

"How long?" Yugi asked.

"As long as I say." Ryou snorted, hiding the second remote control in his pocket and crouching down so he could be eye level with Yugi who sat on a futon in Ryou's game room. "Light?"

"Blue."

"Mmmm. And you remember what I told you?"

Yugi, still blushing, looked away. "Yes."

"Could you repeat it for me, please? And look at me when you speak, pet."

Yugi's eyes turned to Ryou right away. "No touching."

Ryou hummed, as if daydreaming. "No touching what love?"

Yugi sighed, his cheeks deepening from coral to crimson at what he was about to say. "No touching my cock, in any way at all, until you come back into the room."

"And what happens if I catch you touching yourself _in any way at all_?"

Yugi sighed, almost wistful. "I get punished."

"Okay. As long as we're clear on the rules." Ryou leaned forward, giving Yugi a soft, elegant kiss on the lips. The kind of kiss that always made Yugi's breath leave his chest and his mind dizzy. He followed it up with three, softer, chaser kisses. "See you in a bit." He winked at Yugi and walked out of the room.

Yugi tried to ignore the porn playing a few feet away from him, but it was hard to ignore when Ryou had the little vibrator placed so damn close to Yugi's prostate, and the surround sound set to full blast. Even if he closed his eyes, the moans and slapping noises made pre-cum dribble from Yugi's swollen tip as his imagination created scenes to go with the noises. He crossed his legs and sighed, giving up and staring at the images on the computer monitor. Damn, she did have nice tits.

The more he sat there, and watched, and listened, the more aroused Yugi grew. His erection throbbed, his balls ached, and his insides screamed for release. Yugi squirmed, trying to move his legs this way or that to get sensation to his dick without touching himself.

With a frustrated cry, Yugi finally laid on his belly. The friction on the futon and the weight of his body caused a deep groan to pull from Yugi's throat. He arched his shoulders, pressing into the mattress.

The door slammed shut, and Yugi yelped. He looked up with a hand-caught-in-cookie-jar expression on his face.

Ryou matched into the room, naked, a cat-o-nine-tails slung over his shoulder, and so much lube poured over his own erection that his foam-white thighs glistened.

"Don't move," Ryou said.

Yugi froze, knowing he was busted and knowing better than to make excuses.

Ryou took the bottle of lube he'd used on the vibrator a dumped some over Yugi's entrance. He then took the cord connected to the vibe and slowly pulled it out.

Yugi moaned, almost cumming as the vibrator worked itself out. Yugi was grateful for the cockring strapped around him. He'd have felt awful if he'd finished before _yadonushi_ ordered him to.

Once the vibe was safely out, Ryou grabbed Yugi's hair and yanked Yugi to his feet.

"What were you doing?" Ryou's tone was smooth like a sheet of glass, revealing nothing of his actual mood.

"Uh . . ." Yugi couldn't think of anything to say, so he opted for honesty to avoid a worse punishment. "Cheating?"

"Oh yes, my sweet pet. You were very much cheating." Ryou slammed Yugi against the wall, planting his foot into the small of Yugi's until Yugi grinned with the discomfort of it. "Light?"

"Blue," Yugi answered, even as Ryou's heel dug into his back. He kept his arms out as if holding chaturanga against the wall.

"Well, my pet. I don't like cheating."

There was the sound of thinness cutting through air, and then a hard crack of hide cord on flesh. Yugi jerked at the sting.

"Light?"

"Blue," Yugi gasped. The sting hurt, but it was wanted. Like the aftertaste of whiskey, it the feeling of a whip against Yugi's flesh left a pleasant echo, one he yearned for during sex.

Another lash bit into his skin, then another. Yugi called out, drowning out the sound of porn with his own screams. Ryou paused and then whipped him three times more.

"Light?"

"Blue," Yugi felt out of breath, but he forced the word out of his mouth because of he didn't answer, Ryou would stop the scene.

The lash fell on Yugi's shoulders and back, his ass and his thighs. Then Ryou threw the cat-o-nine-tails to the ground. He grabbed Yugi's hair again, pressing himself against Yugi's back.

"Had you followed the rules, I would have fucked you until you came against the wall, but since you were selfish I'll be selfish and treat myself instead. You have permission to speak."

Yugi swallowed, licking his lips. "Please, _yadonushi_ , pleasure yourself inside me. I don't deserve to cum until after you've finished."

Ryou kissed the nape of Yugi's neck before sheathing himself as deep as he could. Yugi shuddered, finally getting the filled sensation he'd been craving since Ryou had prepped him for the vibrator.

Ryou pulled out most the way and slammed back in. He set up a hard rhythm, panting as he grabbed Yugi's hips. "It would please your master - ah - to hear you moan."

Yugi had been holding his breath to keep from moaning, but with permission, he was happy to open his mouth and let his moans echo against the wall.

"Good pet."

Ryou wrapped his arms around Yugi's body, pressing his face between Yugi's shoulder blades as he came. Yugi sighed at Ryou's warmth.

Ryou's hands slid down Yugi's belly and down to his shaft. He grabbed Yugi, avoiding his over sensitive head, but stroking his length.

"Do you want to cum, my pet?"

Yugi nodded his head, squeezing his eyes shut. Ryou slipped off the cockring to quicken Yugi's orgasm. Thirty seconds later, stars danced being his eyelids as Yugi came, and came, and came with himself still in Ryou's hand.

His legs gave out and Ryou had to catch him. "Whoa. I got you. Yugi are you okay?"

The scene was over, so Ryou had switched out of his confident dom persona and back to his slightly awkward self.

"That was . . . amazing." Yugi moaned, trying to get his legs steady.

Now Ryou blushed. He helped Yugi back to the futon. "How do you feel?"

"Sleepy." Yugi leaned against Ryou's shoulder.

"Can you stay awake a little longer for me?"

Yugi nodded.

Ryou fluffed a pillow for Yugi and began rubbing cream on Yugi's back to help any lasting marks from the cat-o-nine-tails. Then he gave Yugi a deep tissue massage.

Yugi sighed.

"Good?" Ryou asked.

"That's really nice."

"I'm glad. You can nap now, if you want. I'll rub your back until you're asleep and then I'll wrap you up in a blanket."

"You're the best, Ryou," Yugi whispered, even as he fell asleep.


	16. Tornshipping/ A Demonstration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "how about some tornshipping (ryou/malik/bakura)? ryou is sick of both his boyfriends treating him like a delicate flower in sex (because that's bakura's thing, not his) and decides to taunt them with his secret vibrator that's bigger than the both of them combined."

Marik sat on the edge of the bed and Ryou sat in his lap, circling and gasping. Ryou’s fingers were laced through Bakura’s tangled hair as Bakura kneeled on the floor with Ryou’s length in his mouth. Ryou through back his head, arching and fighting for each breath as the circling of his hips became sloppy jerks of his body.

 

It was so good, so godsdamned good . . . but so gentle. They always treated him like porcelain, and it hurt. It hurt for them to be so careful when he craved intensity. They were afraid. Afraid that if they didn’t handle Ryou with care they’d break him, and neither one of them could deal with the thought so they caressed him and scratched each other, they kissed him and bit each other.

 

Ryou bucked. He wanted to hit the back of Bakura’s throat, he wanted a hint of teeth, but Marik held his hips, restraining him - goddamn them, goddamn them both.  He couldn’t hold out, even with Marik holding him and Bakura being too careful. He moaned and came and dropped back against Marik’s chest.

 

Marik ran his fingers through Ryou’s hair as Bakura kissed up his stomach. Ryou panted, his cheeks coral. “You could both take me at once, if you wanted. I wouldn’t mind.”  

 

They both chuckled as if he’d said something cute. Bakura lifted Ryou up from Marik’s lap and lay him down on the mattress.

 

“I’m stretched enough. It’d be really hot if you would,” Ryou added as Bakura slipped inside him, hoping they’d listen to logic for once, but Bakura only silenced Ryou with a long, slow, french kiss.

 

Marik mounted himself behind Bakura and they rocked back and forth, Marik’s thrusts pushing Bakura deeper into Ryou’s body. Ryou called out, again it was good, but that was the problem. It was so good he needed more.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bakura woke up chained to the bed. At first he chuckled because he thought Marik has something fun planned, but then he noticed Marik waking up next to him, also chained to the bed.

 

“What the hell . . .”

 

Before he had time to finish his question, Ryou’s soft voice interrupted him. “I did it.”

 

“Host?”

 

He gave Bakura an odd smile. “Oh, good, you’re awake.”

 

“Why are we handcuffed to the bed?” Marik muttered, more asleep than awake.

 

“You don’t listen.” Ryou crossed his arms over his chest, pacing along the foot of the bed. “I like our . . .” he paused, mulling over words, “arrangement, but you’re both far too delicate with me.”  

 

“Of course we are.” Bakura snorted. He turned away to avoid Ryou’s gaze. “You still have scars from the last time we did whatever we wanted with your body.”

 

Ryou touched the scar on his upper arm, knowing that’s what Bakura meant. “It’s not the same.”

 

“Ryou.” Marik’s voice sounded grave. “We swore, swore, that we’d never treat you like that again.”

 

“But that’s the problem, Marik. You’re still treating my like a toy. Only now instead of a puppet, you’re treating me like an antique doll, I want you both to treat me like you treat each other.” Ryou bent below the bed and out of Bakura’s view, coming back up with a large box in his hands. “So I think a little demonstration is in order.”

 

Ryou opened the box and pulled out the longest, thickest vibrator that Bakura had ever seen. It was a foot long, black and shiny with veins along the shaft and a fat head. He pushed a button at the base and the silicon cock buzzed as if a swarm of bees surrounded it while it shook in Ryou’s hand. He turned the vibrations of, still smiling at them.

 

Marik swallowed, shaking his head. “Ryou you keep that fucking thing away from my asshole. If you want to top - fine, I’ll let you top, but that thing is crossing a line.”

 

Bakura chortled, grin stretching his face wide. “I, on the other hand, volunteer to be your lovely assistant for this demonstration. That thing looks interesting.”

 

Ryou raised his eyebrows as if intrigued by Bakura’s statement. He stuck out his cute, pink tongue and gave the head a slow, playful lick. “Sorry Bakura, this isn’t for you, and don’t worry, Marik, it’s not for you, either.”

 

“Then why . . .?” Marik let the question hang open in the air.

 

Ryou slipped off his shirt, fluffing his hair and then toying with the button to his jeans. “It’s for me.”

 

“You?” Bakura frowned, a little confused as to why they were handcuffed to the bed if Ryou didn’t plan on “torturing” them with sex toys in an attempt to show that he could dominate them.

 

Ryou’s pants fell to the floor with a soft thud, his boxers followed. He grabbed a bottle of toy-safe lube and climbed over the bed’s footboard, a gorgeous display of white and Bakura found himself twitching a little in anticipation of whatever was about to happen next.

 

He looked at Marik, then Bakura, ensuring he held both their attentions. “I’m going to use this on myself and make you both watch.” He started to greased the toy up with gel with the same attention one would give to shuffling a deck of cards. “You may have noticed that this this thicker than both of you together, so watch, and the next time I suggest we DP you better damn well give me what I want or this thing becomes my new boyfriend.”

 

“Hah!” Bakura sneered. “Like some silicon and batteries can give you half as much pleasure as either me or Marik - let alone both of us at once.”

 

Ryou grinned, crawling over Bakura’s body and speaking just above Bakura’s lips. “That’s what the demonstration is for - to show you precisely how much fun I can have without you.”

 

“Ryou, be careful,” Marik warned. “If you want us to spice it up a bit, sure, but don’t hurt yourself to prove a point.”

 

Ryou shook his head, done arguing with them. Instead he started to prep himself with his fingers. He’d stacked several pillows behind Marik and Bakura, so they had a good view of him at the foot of the bed. By three fingers, Ryou started to give his growing cock slow, lazy strokes, testing out his own body and giving himself time to add a fourth finger.

 

Bakura licked his lips. If this was meant as a punishment, Ryou was failing because Bakura rather enjoyed the show. Ryou’s hair already clung to his cheeks as sweat started to bead around his temples. It didn’t take much for Ryou’s face to flush. Bakura hated it when his own cheeks felt hot, but he loved the look at Ryou’s face.

 

Adding more lube, Ryou set the base of the vibrator on the mattress and knelt above it. He closed his eyes, easing  about four inches down before holding and waiting for his body to adjust. Bakura heard a little moan and side-glanced to Marik. Marik’s lips were parted as he watched, transfixed, and his eyes were bright and glassy with want.

 

Ryou’s own mouth opened wide in a silent scream as he took the next four inches into his body. He hunched forward a bit, the muscles in his shoulders contorting and his spine curving as Ryou pulled himself halfway up and then sank back down. He repeated the motion, riding the silicon cock with slow, careful ease. Then he dropped again, about ten inches total disappearing into his body. Ryou stayed still a moment, the hand holding the base jabbing the power button. The toy growled and a choked noise escaped Ryou’s mouth.

 

Ryou’s hair dance like streamers when he moved again. His cheeks were the color of medium rare steaks and Bakura found himself licking his lips a second time. He was starting to resent the black vibrator because he really really wanted to be in Ryou at that moment.

 

“Oh Ryou . . .” Marik whispered, his voice barely rising above the hum of Ryou’s new boyfriend. Both he and Bakura were hard now, watching Ryou with undivided attention.

 

“See?” Ryou gasped, moving a little faster, up-down, up-down. “See? Y-you won’t - ah - break - ah - me - ah - ahhh. Damn.”

 

“We’ve learned a valuable lesson.” Bakura grinned. “Now let us out of our cuffs and-”

 

“No,” Ryou gasped, hardly paying any attention to Bakura as he rode the vibrator, trying to stroke himself but having trouble keeping balance at his quicker pace.

 

“But you have to admit,” Marik said, his voice low and confident. “It’d be nicer if you had a free hand to touch yourself, right?”

 

Ryou jerked up as a small spasm hit him. He threw his head back, moaning and shivering before glancing at Marik. “Hmmm . . . perhaps.”

 

“And you seem pretty stretched now. both of us at once would be easy for you at this point.”

 

Bakura wanted to growl and demand Ryou release them that fucking instant, but he bit his lip and allowed Marik to talk on their behalf, knowing Marik was better at negotiating than Bakura.

 

“Ahh - ahhh,” Ryou gasped. “They’re . . . they’re toy . . . cuffs.”

 

“You bastard,” Bakura swore, running his thumb along the edge of the cuff until he found the switch that would release the lock without a key.

 

Ryou didn’t stop pleasuring himself, or even acknowledge Bakura. He and Marik freed themselves and lunged to the end of the bed. Bakura grabbed Ryou and laid him on top of Bakura’s body, both of them facing the ceiling. Meanwhile, Marik chunked the vibrator to the floor and grabbed the lube. He splashed cold lubricant on both himself and Bakura and then tossed that to the side as well.

 

Bakura held Ryou’s arms, and Ryou lifted his hips up to give Marik and Bakura access to his body. Bakrua pressed his own hips up, penetrating Ryou and groaning at the heat of Ryou’s body. Marik knelt between both Bakura and Ryou’s legs. He also pushed into Ryou’s body. He and Bakura’s rhythm's didn’t sync well. They fought over Ryou’s entrance, pressing together inside Ryou who was surprisingly tight even after playing with such a large toy.

 

Bakura couldn’t take it. Feeling Marik’s cock brush against his own as they slammed into Ryou’s body was too amazing and he found himself rocketing into orgasm after mere minutes.

 

Feeling wiped out, Bakura dropped his hips. He grabbed Ryou’s cock and started jerking his hand as fast and strong as he could. Ryou moaned and lifted into the touch as Marik continued to push in and out. Marik was next to call out in orgasm, but he didn’t stop thrusting, gritting his teeth and continuing for the last minute it took for Ryou to  tense, and moan, and explode.

 

 


	17. Tendershipping/ How Ryou Says "I Love You"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ssdjnfldf requested "How about some good old Tendershipping? Once the afterglow of being topped by some sort of sex god wears off all Yami Bakura can think is 'who the FUCK taught him that?!"

The Spirit of the Ring lay on his host's bed, arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at the ankles. He watched his living counterpart step out of the shower, humming to himself as he dried off with a large, white towel.

"Careful,  _yadonushi_ , tempt me like that and I might have to do something inappropriate."

He always teased his host in such a way because it made him flustered. Each time the Spirit made a dirty joke or insinuation, Ryou tended to drop things and stutter a good hour afterwards, sometimes longer.

But this time his host simply stared at the ghost-like creature stretched out on his duvet. He wadded his towel into a ball, throwing it to the floor as he marched forward, skin flushed from his shower, hair dangling around his shoulders only half dried.

"You know what? I think tonight I'll call your bluff."

The Spirit threw his head back, cackling. "You think I'm bluffing?"

"Yes." Ryou eased onto the mattress. He grabbed the Spirit's crossed ankles, spreading his legs wide so he can crawl closer. "I'm going to fuck you so hard that when you scream out Bakura you'll know exactly who owns the name that you've stolen."

Things escalated from there, and before the Spirit could truly process what was happening, he found himself face planted into a pillow with his ass sticking up into the air and Ryou driving him like a chariot. His cheeks glowed bright pink despite his ghostly, transparent form. He screamed into his pillow without stop, spit leaking out of the corner of his mouth because he didn't have time to catch a breath let alone swallow. And he did call out his host's name, again and again until he was hoarse from screaming it.

Ryou brought him to the edge of orgasm and then stroked him until toppled over the edge and plummeted down like a burning comet. Afterward the Spirit could do little more than gasp into Ryou's pillow and wondered when exactly he'd lost control of the situation. Loath as he was to admit it - the answer was that he never had control of the situation. From the moment Ryou dropped his towel to the ground, the Spirit had been his and there was nothing the Spirit could have done to stop it, though he never would have anyway.

He looked over at his host starting to doze. He looked satisfied, a white, monochromatic rendition of Leighton's  _Flaming June_.

"What the fuck?" the Spirit asked.

Ryou's drowsy eyes fluttered open. "Huh?"

"What the fuck just happened? Where did you learn how to do that? I definitely haven't given you any time to practice."

"Oh," he chuckled. "That was really nice, wasn't it?" He yawned. "I'm just so sleepy now."

Nice was the biggest understatement ever uttered. Transcendent was more apt. "So? When did you have time to learn how to fuck like that?"

Ryou frowned. "I . . . read a few things I guess."

"That was more than something you read about in a dirty magazine."

Ryou forced a smile, even without the link between them provided by the Ring, the Spirit could tell he was hiding something. "Can we just go to sleep? I really am tired."

"Oh, but yadonushi, I'm dying to know your secret. Plus, I don't like you hiding things from me."

"I know," Ryou whispered, "and I'm sorry that I'm keeping secrets from you, but . . ."

The Spirit raised an eyebrow, waiting for his host to answer.

Ryou turned away. "You really don't want to hear anything I have to say. That's why I told you . . . like this. I-I thought, maybe I could show you because I didn't want my words to hurt you."

The Spirit snorted. "Don't flatter yourself. Nothing you could ever say would hurt me."

Ryou sat up, his white hair shifted around his shoulders and a strand fell into his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry that they burned everyone, that you saw it happen, that you were all alone-"

The Spirit sat up and slapped him. It was a reflex of his hand with no thought behind it, just a panic to make Ryou stop speaking. He hadn't expected that. Insults or bragging or . . . anything, anything other than what actually had come out of his host's mouth. He sat in bed with his head low. Tears stained his cheeks, but it wasn't the slap, which hadn't been hard - the Spirit had been too shocked to put any force behind the action - the tears were empathy, deep, intimate empathy and the Spirit despised him for it.

Ryou threw his arms around the Spirit. "I told you," he whispered. "I knew you couldn't hear it."

The Spirit tried to push his host away, but Ryou held tight, continuing to whisper into the Spirit's ear.

"I don't  _fuck_. I know that's what you call it, and that's okay, but it's not what I do. Fucking implies that it's only physical, and it's not - not to me." Ryou pulled back enough for their eyes to catch, cinnamon to cinnamon. "When you hate, you throw your entire being into the act, don't you? Well, when I care about someone, I do the same. I put everything I have into it, and the more I care, the more I can give, and that's why you enjoyed it so much."


	18. Casteshipping/ Momento Mori (Atem tops)

**DISCLAIMER: Everyone dies in this fic (literally, by the end of the fic only TKB and Atem are left alive - this is super post canon), but I promise they all lived wonderful, complete, happy lives and are continuing to do so in the afterlife as they wait for Atem and TK to join them.*****

* * *

They tried to avoid each other.

When everyone came back they acted like magnets, pairing up positive to negative with their other halves - he with Yugi, Bakura with Marik, and the newly named Kek with Ryou.

No one ever formally declared that they shouldn't interact. They just all did their best to avoid each other.

But they kept seeing each other at parties. Turned out that if one was gay and one lived in Domino City then one couldn't really do anything to avoid another gay male. There was only one decent gay bar, one decent gay dance club, and who  _wouldn't_  go a sex party at the Kaiba mansion? It didn't help the the gay scene and the Duel Monsters scene were almost the same group of people - at least as far as challenging Duel Monster players were concerned.

At first Bakura and Kek would hide in the darkest corner of the room, keeping to themselves, whispering and snickering in the Shadows. Ryou and Marik were more sociable. Kek and Bakura never stopped their significant others from mingling as long as they could stay as far away from everything as possible.

Perhaps they would have stayed that way if it wasn't for Yugi. Atem's sweet, precious aibou couldn't handle seeing people outside the group. He started saying  _hi_ to them, then  _bye_ , then  _here have a drink_ , which lead to  _bet I can kick your ass in poker as easy as Duel Monsters_ , and before anyone knew it - although it took him years to accomplish it - they would occasionally leave the corner with Yugi to talk to the rest of the group. Small, awkward pleasantries that turned into decent friendships between some of them and passionate rivalries between others. Jounouchi and Kek became rather good friends after a few drunken bar fights, and even Atem found himself challenging Bakura to card games.

They tried to stay away, but Atem and Bakura had a strange link between them that they couldn't deny. They weren't meant to be in the present. They had lived three thousand years ago, and there were a few things that only the two of them understood that the others didn't get. Like sennet, like their native language, like the weight of years they each had to carry on their shoulders.

Thus, a year became a decade, and one decade became three, and in a mad, wild rush of time that they didn't notice, they (every one of them) started collecting wrinkles around their eyes, and gray hairs mixing in with the other colors. At first they joked about it,  _damn we're old now_ , but too soon the gray went white, the wrinkles set deep into their skin . . . and the funerals started.

Anzu died in a plane crash, and they lost Jounouchi, Mai, and Otogi during a tsunami, but most of the deaths weren't tragic. They died of pneumonia, of heart attack, of cancer - they died because they were old. It's what happened, and yet Atem had a hard time accepting it. He himself died so young, in Egypt, that it was hard to see the people that made up his whole life slip away from him without anything he could do to stop it. There was no Zorc to fight; there was no Shadow Magic to blame. They were just old. It was just life, but it didn't seem right somehow.

Then Marik died and Bakura fell apart. Bakura, who never showed much emotion past amusement or frustration in front of people, shattered during the funeral, openly wailing, dropping to his knees, clutching at Marik's urn and refusing to let go. It took Ryou, Kek, and Yugi all to get him back to Ryou and Kek's place that evening. Atem wasn't sure if Bakura would have survived if it wasn't for Ryou and Kek anchoring him to the world.

They lost Seto and Honda a few years later. Then Yugi got a call from Bakura saying Ryou died. His heart stopped. Everyone tried to joke about it, to cope. Of course Ryou's heart stopped. He used it too much, voided the warranty, Anubis was probably going to lecture him during his Weighing when he handed the guardian of the dead such a beat up, worn out, reckless heart.

Kek stopped eating, not all together, but his appetite faded and so did his energy. He wasn't trying to be self destructive. It was more like a soft, subtle depression that eroded him the same way water carved into a sand bed. It was bad, watching the arguable loudest and most intense one of them flicker and then snuff out like candle flame.

Bakura didn't wail or scream during their funerals. When Ryou died, he faked strong to hold Kek together. When Kek died, he sat still with wet cheeks, refusing to do or say anything. He probably would have stayed at the cemetery if Yugi hadn't take him home when them.

And that's where Bakura stayed, in a room next to the one Atem and Yugi shared. Atem often woke up and found them sitting outside in the morning sun and talking - reminiscing of all the crazy things their group had done over the last seventy years. Once they were talking about Battle City, but they were laughing, laughing about all of it. It did seem like the good old days, looking back at it all. At least back then the dead could come back to life, but the gods weren't letting them get away with it this time. The three of them . . . that was all that was left.

Then, one morning, Atem woke up and Yugi was still in bed, but something felt wrong. He was still, too, too still, and not warm. Atem didn't even open his eyes before he burst into tears, instincting insisting on what his mind refused to believe. He wasn't sure how long he cried. He didn't think he'd ever stop, and he hardly registered Bakura's arms wrapping around him, holding him. He hardly registered how Bakura's chest shook as he cried with Atem.

Everything sort of blacked out for Atem after that morning. Bakura dragged him along through the routine. Funeral arrangements, the tedious post funeral social obligations. The death of the King of Games was news worthy, but Bakura kept the reporters far away from Atem. Atem almost smiled at that, at the fact that is was hell having Bakura fight you, but it was rather nice having him on your side.

Atem couldn't go back to his bed. He'd shared that bed with Yugi for their entire lives. It hurt. It hurt too much. Bakura seemed to understand because he dragged Atem to his own bedroom, and pulled Atem beneath the covers. They slept, clutching at each other as if the world outside were ending. In the morning, Bakura tried to feed Atem rice porridge, but he wouldn't eat it, so Bakura took it away. For three days they went on like that, holding each other at night, Bakura trying to feed him during the day, Atem refusing. He took showers, so he could cry beneath the water, so he could be alone for a moment with his grief, but otherwise he stayed in Bakura's bed and waited until he'd see Yugi again. That's all he wanted, to see everyone that he'd lost. Two life times - he'd lost everything he knew in his life  _twice_.

The fourth morning Bakura grabbed Atem's jaw and forced his mouth opened, shoving rice porridge against his tongue and covering Atem's nose and mouth with his hand to force Atem to swallow.

"You're going to fucking eat," Bakura growled, as angry as he ever was in Egypt or as a Spirit in the Ring.

Atem swallowed the single bite, but then started to cry. Fat tears rolled down his tanned cheeks as he hiccuped his sorrow. He expected another spoon of food or angry cursing, what he got was Bakura's hands netting into his hair and pulling their faces breaths apart. "Don't you dare die like Kek. Don't you dare leave me alone."

The tears that spilled from Bakura's eyes shocked Atem. Without thinking about what he was doing, he reached out and wiped them away. Then, still acting out of some sort of desperate grief rather than logic, he held Bakura's cheeks and kissed him.

He expected to get slapped, maybe even stabbed, but Bakura sank into the kiss like a stone thrown into the Nile. Neither one of them could stop after that. They held on, and kissed, until the tears dried from their cheeks and somehow Bakura ended up beneath Atem on the bed.

It wasn't until Bakura spread out his legs that Atem realized what they were doing and pulled away. He looked down at Bakura. His cheeks looked sunburned, and his face was turned away. He panted, but didn't say anything, simply waited. Atem grinned. Bakura didn't look old. His hair had always been white, and the wrinkled somehow made him look wiser instead of older.

"Don't make me ask." His voice sounded like rust, like age, like a three thousand year old relic.

Atem shook his head as he started to undress Bakura. "I won't."

They'd had sex before. Everyone had slept with everyone at one point or another. But that felt like a lifetime ago. It was one thing, masquerade balls at Seto's mansion, dark rooms where you didn't even know who you were grabbing, champagne and poppers and two or three other people at once, but this was quite different. This was his own house, and a room bright with sunlight, and no one else to act as a buffer. Just him and Bakura . . . because they were all that was left. Just him and Bakura, and he couldn't take the grief inside, didn't care if it was Bakura beneath him, he needed to feel like he wasn't alone.

"This is our punishment, isn't it?" Atem whispered, kissing Bakura's brown shoulders.

"I think so," he answered. "We cheated death, so the gods are giving us the life we coveted."

Atem gave him a sad, soft laugh. "Who would have thought we would have ended like this?"

Bakura snorted, avoiding eye contact with Atem. "Your other half. He made me promise, right before he left, that I'd look after you."

Atem looked up from Bakura's skin, blinking fresh tears out of his eyes at the thought of Yugi. "I don't see why you agreed."

Bakura reached out, combing his fingers through a spike of Atem's white and silver hair. "Because I'm tired. I'm really tired, Atem. I'm too tired. I'm too tired to be angry, and I'm too tired to hate you . . . I just don't want to spend my last days alone."

Atem kissed him again, because he understood what Bakura meant. Three thousand years in a Millennium Item wasn't a very long time, and it was all too easy to hold a grudge when there was nothing to distract you, but life - living a human life - was different. The experiences they went through changed them the way time changed geography, the way a river wore down a mountain, and Battle City really did seem like the goold old days - their young, fierce, reckless days.

They stripped down and slipped beneath the sheets. Bakura was warm when Atem entered him, and in that moment Atem felt the urge to make it right, somehow. He wanted to ease Bakura's grief even as his own heart still throbbed with own grief - or maybe it was because Atem was suffering that he could finally understand how Bakura always felt since the day the Items were made. Unfortunately, 99 apologies would repair nothing, and 99 kisses - no matter how tender and sincere - would heal nothing, so all Atem could do was resolve himself to stay in the world as long as possible, to make sure Bakura never had to be alone again.

Bakura was not a gentle lay, he bucked back, and squeezed Atem between his legs, and dug his nails into Atem's shoulders. Atem cradled the back of Bakura's head with one hand, and braced Bakura`s back with the other hand. At first he tried to take it easy, but Bakura's nails against Atem's skin drove him to go harder, to take Bakura like they were still enemies - although they'd never been so far from being the adversaries they once were.

Bakura's nails dragged down Atem's skin, making him scream and shiver inside. One hand rested on Atem's ass, grabbing flesh and pressing quick and hard, encouraging Atem to match his pace. The other hand slipped between them so Bakura could finish himself. Atem felt a little guilty about it, that Bakura stroked himself, but Atem would have had to slow down in order to stroke Bakura, and he could tell by Bakura's still pushing hand on Atem's ass that he wanted it fast, so there was nothing Atem could do but go as fast as he could until Bakura shook and whispered pharaoh as he came.

Atem couldn't remember the last time anyone actually referred to him with that title, and it sounded so dirty and erotic when Bakura swore it under his breath in bed. Atem moaned, shutting his eyes and curving his back as his own orgasm trembled through him minutes later. They lay stacked together for a moment. When Atem looked up, he realized Bakura was asleep. Atem smiled, watching Bakura's face. Bakura looked peaceful; it was strange and wonderful to see that expression on his face.

Atem sat up and stretched. He noticed the bowl of rice porridge sitting on the night stand. Remembering his internal vow to stay alive a little longer, Atem picked up the bowl and started eating.


	19. Vigilshipping/ Creepy Doll AU/ Fem!Ryou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got a prompt for Fem!Ryou Vigilshipping I said NO. Nooooooooo~ . . . and then my brain was like "but, creepy doll AU" and so I'm like eff it, I'll do it for Halloween. BUT THIS IS THE ONLY GENDERBENDING I'M DOING (so please don't ask me to do more.). And~ This is femslash, which I've never written before so . . .? It could be really bad? I don't know. But Ryou is a creepy doll - Happy Halloween.

Each raindrop tinked against the glass of the shop windows. Bursts of lightning lit up wood and porcelain dolls before shuttering and plunging the store back into fuzzy shadows. Mai's heels clicked against the floor tile as she walked to the front door and locked it. She stared out at the charcoal sky a moment, watching the rain paint everything in slate and ash tones as the water seeped into the concrete and pavement.

She turned away from the windows and the sky, back to her store and her dolls. Mai walked to a shelve, straightening the lace petticoat of a china doll swathed in white satin and pink ribbon. She fixed any dolls carelessly left askew by offhanded customers and made sure all their name tags showed. Finished Mai smiled and walked into the back.

A crate, almost the size and width of a coffin, waited for her in the back. Mai used a crowbar to remove the nails and pop open the top. There, hidden in a bed of straw and shredded paper, lay the newest additional to her personal collection. She was unique, life-sized, handmade by a world-famous Japanese doll-maker, the only one of her kind.

Her name was Ryou.

Gently, Mai picked her up and lifted her out of her crate. She was a centimeter taller than Mai, making holding her awkward, but she felt like a feather in Mai's arms. Mai settled her in a chair, kneeling in front of her. Her skin was crafted from untinted, bisque porcelain, her white skin a stark contrast to the dark room lit only by a small table lamp. Mai reached up and combed her fingers through the white hair. The ringlets pulled against her fingers and then sprang back into thick spirals when Mai moved her hand away.

"You're so pretty, aren't you?" Mai whispered, her voice a soft whisper. She always whispered around her dolls. They were so delicate. It seemed like only a whisper would do around them.

The doll smiled at Mai, lips painted blood red, eyes gleaming darkly, almost black. She wore a dress of black and red silk, red ribbon, black lace, silver buttons, and an embroidered, black corset cinching her waist in tight. Mai admired the white socks that ran up to the dolls thighs, and the black shoes that shined like polished onyx. Mai had a spot set up for Ryou in the display window, but she wasn't going to be for sale. No, she was too beautiful and rare. Mai would keep her as a display to lure in customers. Although most of her sales were online, Mai loved sitting in the brick and mortar store, in the quiet hours, with all her dolls.

Thunder made the walls seem to shake. Mai checked her watch and realized it was time to go. She stood up, straightened her skirt, and found her raincoat. After shutting off the lamp, Mai turned to give one last glance at Ryou.

Ryou's head was turned towards Mai, as if watching her.

Mai frowned. She didn't remember bumping into the doll when she stood up. She walked back, familiar with the room even in the dark and able to see by the soft, red glow of the emergency exit light. Mai straightened Ryou's head back to the center.

"There you go, love." Mai combed her fingers one last time through Ryou's soft, human hair. Mai wondered where the dollmaker had gotten such perfect, white hair for the doll . . . but perhaps she didn't want to know. On a whim, Mai bent down and gave the doll a quick, chaste kiss. "You're perfect," Mai whispered against the doll's lips.

Another shake of thunder echoed above them. Before Mai could straighten up, the doll grabbed each side of Mai's face and pulled her back in for a longer, slower, deeper kiss.

Mai's breath caught in her throat. She stayed still, too confused, too . . . disbelieving to understand what was happening. She didn't move even after the kiss became two, then three, as if staying still would return the doll to normal, return reality back to normal.

But the doll didn't stop. She exhaled, warm, living breath over Mai's lips, and fluttered her long, white lashes. "You wear  _Wildfox_  perfume."

"H-how did you know?" Mai asked.

_That_  is what she asked. Not, why are you moving? Why are you talking? Have I finally snapped and become a madwomen with a doll fetish? No, she asked none of the questions that  _should_  have been asked. She only wanted to know how the doll knew about her perfume.

Ryou smiled, red lips shaped into a pretty heart. "I know a lot about you."

"Why?"

"Because I was made for you." Ryou pulled Mai into her lap.

Mai's skirt rode up, upper part of her hamstrings brushing against the black silk of Ryou's dress. She couldn't stop thinking about how warm Ryou was, warm, human, not bisque porcelain. Mai shook her head  _no_ , knowing something was wrong.

It wasn't the fairy-tale plot of a doll coming to life after a kiss like an enchanted princess that worried her. The world was strange, and that part seemed to settle into Mai's brain after the initial shock wore away. But something had to be wrong. Good things never happened to Mai. Nice, sweet things never happened. A doll would not be made to love her or be her companion, and Mai knew in the center of her chest that something horrible was about to happen.

Ryou's eyes melted with compassion. She cooed in a soft voice. "Shhh, shhhhh, it's okay. It's all right now. Let me hold you." She rested Mai's head on her breasts, combing her bone-white fingers through Mai's bleached, blonde hair. "Why are you afraid?"

Mai shook her head  _no_.

"Yes you are. I can feel it. You think I'll hurt you, no. No, precious, this won't hurt . . at . . all . . ." Ryou brought their lips back together, her red lips gliding over Mai's mauve painted ones. "Love me . . ." Ryou whispered, her voice sing-song sweet. "Love . . . me . . ."

And she knew something horrible was about to happen.

She knew.

And yet she pulled the ribbon away from Ryou's corset, freeing the living doll's firm breast and caressing them. She dragged her lips across dead-white skin, Ryou's neck . . . her shoulder . . . the top swell of her left breast. Ryou hooked her fingers into Mai's hair, moaning as Mai touched her.

"Yes . . . like that, please."

Ryou shifted in the chair. Mai slipped off of her lap and knelt back to the floor. Ryou kicked off her shoes, propping both feet out to the sides so that she was spread wide before Mai who rolled down the thigh-high socks, gracing reverent kisses down Ryou's thighs and calves as she went.

And Mai knew something horrible was about to happen.

She shook, her hands trembling against white flesh.

But sheached inside, and she wanted the moment to be real. She wanted it, badly, and decided to succumb to her fate, enjoying the last moment she had of of whatever dream, or hallucination, or nightmare that Ryou really was. Such a beautiful nightmare she was, lace petticoat overlaying beads of sweat swelling on slender, white thighs. Mai kissed up, up along the doll's thighs, lured in by her sweet, musky scent.

She did not notice one of Ryou's hands untangling from her hair, and she did not notice as that hand reached out to the craft table beside them.

Ryou was a beautiful nightmare and Mai was lost. She hooked her thumbs around Ryou's white lace panties that looked almost cream-colored compared to the white of Ryou's smooth skin. With swift glide, Mai pulled the underwear away from her body. Ryou shifted up to facilitate the movement, her own hand gliding along the craft table and wrapping french-tipped nails around a pair of stainless steel scissors.

Mai shifted Ryou's skirts upward, revealing all of her from the waist down. Mai's tongue left trails of saliva where she licked.

Ryou smiled down at her, lifting up the scissors and petting Mai's hair. "I want us to be together," Ryou whispered.

"Really?" Mai whispered against Ryou's skin, still worshipping every inch of her.

"Forever, my sweet . . . I'll keep you with me forever."

Mai sighed relief, forgetting to be afraid even as Ryou aimed. She gave one last raise of her arm, slender muscles taut as they prepared to plunge down, but then Mai kissed between her legs.

The scissors fell from the doll's hands, clattering on the floor as Ryou arched into Mai's kiss. Mai heard the noise of them, but was too distracted to see what dropped. She flicked her tongue between the doll's clit and hood, moaning when she felt the grip on her hair tighten.

Ryou rocked her hips, and Mai swirled her tongue. Ryou's cries grew sharp and high as she used Mai's hair like puppet strings, showing her human lover exactly how hard and at what speed to move. Mai relaxed in the dolls grip, letting her puppeteer control the pace. Her mouth watered as she sucked until Ryou stood to get feet as she came, hands still tangled in Mai's hair.

Mai looked up, eyes gleaming in the faint, red light. She licked her lips, never shifting her gaze. Ryou looked back, only a confused torment twisted her features.

"It's okay," Mai whispered, grabbing the scissors abs offering them back to Ryou. "I understand." She closed her eyes and bared her throat.

Ryou dropped to her knees, her beautiful skirts parachuting outward as she landed on the floor. She ran a long, manicured nail down Mai's soft throat.

Mai's breath hitched at Ryou's touch. Her eyes fluttered open. "I'm awkward and unlucky. Nothing good ever happens . . . still, it was nice to pretend." She closed her eyes again. "You said it wouldn't hurt." A tat rolled down Mai's cheek. "Please, don't let it hurt."

The scissors dropped from Ryou's hand a second time as the doll wreaked her arms around Mai. "No. It won't hurt at all."

She lay Mai down on the cold, tiled floor, hiking up her skirt up. "I wanted you to love me." She raised her own skirts, lying between Mai's legs and pressing their bodies together. "Now . . ." she gasped, closing her eyes as she began rocking. "Let me love you in return."

 


	20. Blueshipping/ Kisara topping/pegging

*****Blueshipping where Kisara tops.*****

* * *

Real rubies and chips of amber were sown into the satin ribbons that held the lace teddy together. It gave the illusion that the lingerie was on fire. Her white hair spilled down her shoulders and back, blue eye intense and searing and Seto Kaiba always found himself a little breathless in her presence - especially when she had that predatory look in her fierce, blue eyes.

He wore nothing, a vulnerable lamb for her to hunt and devour whole, and she could, and he'd beg for it. She pressed him down into the comforter, seizing his mouth in her own and kissing him however she wanted. Her mouth was fire, hot and primal against Seto's lips as she snaked her tongue into his mouth. Seto whimpered a little, submitting to her as if it were as natural as breathing.

Pinning Seto's arms above his head, she started grinding against him. The feeling of her warmth seeping through the satin and rubbing against him made Seto harden. A fire crackled in the bedroom's hearth. It the firelight, her hair became flames writhing around her head. The jewels in her lingerie flashed like sparks showering from flint and steel. Her stomach waved in an S shape, muscles coiling and uncoiling like a serpent's body. Seto lay hypnotized as he watched her.

She arched back, grinding faster. Her face was a cute mess of wrinkled concentration. She snapped forward, pushing her body weight down so that Seto's erection pressed against her clitoris. Then her body swept up. She held still a moment, and then settled down on top of Seto and kissing Seto's neck.

"We're still switching tonight, right?"

She pulled back and gave him a large, warm smile. "I love when you're excited, like a child before a festival."

He hid his face in her hair, bashful. He didn't like how she could so easily read his facial features when even Mokuba struggled from time to time. His action only made her giggle, kissing the crown of his head and lifting his face to kiss his lips. "Give me a second to go put it on, okay?"

He watched her disappear, licking his lips as he waited for her return. It seemed to take a while, but Seto assumed that it was because he was eager. He found their bottle of lube and decided to prep himself so that, when she returned, he'd be ready.

* * *

Kisara felt a little foolish as she wiggled into the strap-on and then adjusted the straps to make sure nothing would come loose. She noticed her reflexion in the mirror blushing a little. She took a moment to fix her lingerie and give the strap-on a final inspection before walking out into their bedroom again.

Seto's blue eyes flashed in the firelight. He was flushed and mussed up with three fingers buried inside himself and his alternate hand teased his cock as he worked. Kisara felt the smile on her face. He was so pretty, her little lamb. She felt herself warm inside at the anticipation of hearing him moan beneath her.

Mai had told her about it, about pegging. Mai usually told her about all sorts of naughty little tricks to try in bed - rimjobs, fisting, even sounding. At first, each time she tried to bring something up, Kisara would trip over her own words, her face a ruin of pink from embarrassment, but Seto never said no to anything she brought up. In fact, he often was the one to request a repeat of an experiment for a second or third time, until they became a normal break from their hectic, daily routine. But this was her favorite kink because they could lay close and hold each other as she made him moan.

Seto noticed her, pulling his hands away from himself and looking sheepish.

She crawled on the bed to meet him. "Thanks for getting ready for me."

He acknowledged her with a noise in his throat. It drew her attention to the delicate skin covering his adam's apple, and she moved forward to suck at the juncture of throat and collarbone. Seto leaned back until he lay flat on the bed with his legs spread out. Kisara kissed him for a moment, leaving him waiting as she tasted his lips.

Seto bucked against her, urging her to start, so she held the silicon dong in her hand and lined up with Seto's body. It always seemed a little harsh, that first push, but the way it made Seto gasp sent jolts through Kisara's lower body. She eased in and held, then pulled away. Kisara pushed in a second time; Seto gasped again. Her thrusting motions put pressure on her clitorous and the nerves above. Thus, it only took a few minutes before Kisara was thrusting deep and shallow in order to get as much stimulation to herself as possible before arching back and shaking in orgasim.

After she came the second time, Seto grabbed her breasts and sucked on her right nipple. She paused a moment to catch her breath and enjoy the feeling of Seto's tongue, and then she returned to longer, slower thrusts. Seto began calling out, mouth opened, tongue occasionally dabbing at her peony-colored nipple between moans and cries. It took longer for her to climb back up to plateau after two orgasims, and by the time she was close, she could tell that Seto was ready as well.

"Touch yourself," she whispered, looking down at his face and feeling her heart flutter even as her lower body yarned for her final release.

Seto's eyes flicked up to meet her gaze. "Are you ordering me?"

"Yes," she hissed, like a serpent . . . or perhaps a dragon.

He grinned, eyes glazed with want. "You're the only one that gets to order me around."

"Seto, hurry," she gasped as her muscles clenched. "Ahhh . . ." she moaned, eyes fluttering shut a moment, but she decided to keep them open, keep her mind in the present.

Seto's hand was shuffling along his shaft. His eyes squeezed shut, and his mouth twisted into a focused O of pleasure. She felt him tightened, knew he was almost ready, and she allowed herself to focus a little more on the ever climbing thrill of her own pleasure.

"Kisa-" Seto's breath caught in his throat as he started to ejaculate.

With a final, full thrust, Kisara jerked her hips forward, then fully sheathed, ground against Seto until her final climax left the blood ringing in her ears. Seto slapped her ass and she yelped in surprise, pulling out and poking his belly between pearls of semen. "You're such a fiend, Seto."

"Come here." He hooked his arm around and pulled her down beside him.

She yelped again, this time more for dramatic effect than genuine surprise. They kissed twice and then settled against each other. Kisara combed her white fingers through his hair. It always amazed her how soft it was, even softer than her own. "I'm so happy. Being here with you. It makes me happy," she whispered.

Seto smiled. He often didn't reply when she said things like that to him. At least, not with words, but he always touched her in some way. He traced her lips with the tip of his finger. He leaned forward, kissing her forehead before pulling away, and this time, he managed to whisper back to her, "I'm glad."


	21. Conspireshipping/ 2, 3, 4?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Haruhi_Lawiet asked for 2-body Conspireshipping during Battle City.***

 

 

 

Marik threw Bakura to the ground before he had a chance to say something sardonic. He went straight for Bakura's creamy white throat. He'd been wanting to taste Bakura's skin since he'd first seen him.

"What the hell, Marik?" Bakura squirmed beneath him.

"Why are you asking?" Marik bit Bakura's throat twice before finished. "It's obvious what I'm doing."

"I . . ." Bakura groaned a little at the bites, ". . . this - bad idea."

For someone who thought it was a bad idea, he was arching beautifully into Marik's chest and baring his throat for Marik's teeth to decorate with more bite marks.

Marik snorted. "What? Afraid of getting caught?" He pressed himself between Bakura's legs, demonstrating why it was worth the risk.

"I don't think . . . I can stay in cn-. . ." Bakura groaned and then seemed to faint.

Marik blinked. He started chuckling, trying to decide if he should give up or splash water on Bakura's face to wake him up. Then Marik remembered that Bakura  _had_  left the hospital too soon after stabbing himself in order for them to both be present at Battle City. Marik pushed up. checking Bakura's bandages to make sure he hadn't re-opened his wound.

A gasp drew Marik's attention back to Bakura. "Are you awake now? What the hell is wrong with you? We've hardly gotten to the foreplay and you're already passing out."

"Foreplay?" The face looking up at Marik looked confused, and sounded different somehow.

"Bakura, are you okay?"

"Namu?"

Then Marik figured out what had happened. "Oooops," Marik flashed a devilish smile at Bakura's host. "Sorry . . . I forgot about you."

He narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what was going on. "Wait, your . . . name is Marik? You lied . . . oh, you're working with  _him_." He blinked his cinnamon brown eyes, as if noticing Marik wedged into his crotch for the first time. Ryou sighed. "Well, this is nicer than waking up bleeding." He looked at Marik. "So . . . are you going to get up, or . . ."

Marik stretched, intentionally deepening the pressure he put on Bakura's groin. "I don't know. I was kinda hoping your other half would come back."

Bakura's host raised an eyebrow. "Couldn't you just use to Rod to force the issue?"

"Well, at least you're not naive." Marik intentionally didn't answer the question although he had had no intention of using the Rod.

Bakura's host gave Marik a sweet smile. He shifted a little, pressing up against Marik's erection. It caught Marik off guard and a pleasent grunt escaped him. Ryou leaned close to Marik's ear, tickling Marik with his warm breath. "Are you as curious as I am to see how this would play out if you kept going?" He pressed up against Marik a second time, and a third. "I want to know if he  _will_  come back out if I get too stimulated. What do you think? Will we keep switching or will one finally settle in?"

Marik focused on keeping his voice steady and detached although the need to pant was becoming strong. "You're taking this rather, ngh, well."

"I'd rather test this out now and know what I'm going to be in for later. Possessed or not, I have no intention of taking a vow of celibacy."

Marik thought about it for a moment. Then he smirked. "Then let us consider this a  _ménages à trois._ "

Marik went back for Bakura's throat, but his host caught Marik's face in his hands and forced their lips to meet. Marik flinched. He never intended to get so personal as to kiss his  _good time_  on the mouth, but Ryou didn't give him much of a choice. He licked Marik's lips until the hazy rush of pheromones and hormones talked Marik into opening his mouth and allowing Ryou to swirl his tongue to the back to Marik's throat.

Marik was starting to relax in Ryou's arms, slowly melting into the moment. Just as he felt the last of his control slipping, Ryou pulled away and grumbled in a harsher voice. "Dammit, stop that and just let him fuck us."

"So you can talk to him?" Marik asked.

Bakura looked at Marik. "If I feel like it. Can we hurry this up before the tournament actually starts?"

"Turn on your stomach," Marik said.

"My stomach? Fuck you. I'm not letting you fuck me from behind like I'm a dog."

Marik scowled. He didn't want a stray, excited hand reaching for his back. He tried to think of a way to manipulate the situation. "So what? You'd rather make love face to face instead?"

Bakura bristled. "Whatever. This better be worth of the bother."

He slipped off his pants and turned on all fours. Marik only stripped his pants down to his knees. He took a packet of lube out of his pocket and drizzled the gel on his fingers to get Bakura started. By the time Marik added his second finger he heard bright laughter.

"You're a bottom!" Ryou giggled. "No,  _you_  shut up."

"I'm still here." Marik scowled, feeling a little ignored as host and spirit carried on a conversation he couldn't participate in.

Ryou glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah, it's hard to forget you're here when you're sort of finger fucking me, Marik."

"Classy language."

"Matches the classy atmosphere."

Marik decided that a better way to shut either Bakura up was through action. He pressed deeper, finding Bakura's prostate and dragging his fingers across it. Ryou made a pretty noise in his throat. After a few pulls of Marik's fingers, his soft coos changed to deep growls of pleasure.

"Your host is as difficult as you are."

Bakura grinned. "You're just out of sorts because neither one of us will kowtow to you."

Actually, Marik thought of that as a redeeming quality. It wasn't often that he got to spend time around people he wasn't controlling - Rishid didn't count. And they were perfect to look at. He liked Bakura's extra messy hair better, but the noises both of them made as he toyed with them were scrumptious.

Marik couldn't hold out any longer. A dark, ferral need to ravage them was consuming Marik's mind, and he almost felt detached from his body as he pushed into tightness and heat.

Bakura, or rather the spirit, screamed, pushing his hips back to meet Marik with each thrust. For a moment it stayed the two of them, and it went rather well. They moved together as if dancing or fencing, even their breaths seemed to argue and yet somehow complement each other.

Then, with a twitch, Ryou returned. "Ah! Harder!"

Marik obeyed, slamming harder into white flesh. Ryou screamed in approval, but Marik felt strange, lightheaded. It wasn't unpleasant, but he did feel a little out of control of his own body, as if something wanted to take control.

"Yes! Yes! Please! Harder!"

But Ryou's pleases drove him further, although the more Marik gave, the more something else inside him seemed to want to take.

And then he blacked out.

* * *

It'd been awhile since he last had control, and he hadn't expected to come to in the middle of trying to split another man in half - and the other man begging for it. But after a moment, his victim pulled away and turned to look at him. "You're not Marik."

He smirked, crawling closer. "Yes I am."

"You're different."

"True." He stopped a breath away from the white-haired victim before him, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above the crown of his head.

The other male smiled. "You're better."

His smirk widened to a wolfish grin. "Also true." He kicked off his pants, wondering how the hell his other half managed to do his job properly while swaddled like an infant. Then he leaned over his prey and rammed inside him.

"Fuck yes! Oh, okay, um - quick intro." He paused to toss his head back and moan as Marik's shadow tore into him without pause or mercy. "I-I'm Ryou, and there's -  _damn you're good at this_  - a - a spirit in the Ring . . .  _Fuck yes right there!"_

He didn't really care what the delicious plaything he was fucking called himself. What mattered was that he screamed, and screamed he did, and it was wonderful. Each thrust was like a knife stab. Sweat rolled down Marik's chest and dripped onto Ryou's pale stomach. Ryou hooked his left leg right below the scars that created Marik's other side, but unlike Marik, he didn't mind being touched, so he continued to stab, to pierce, to drive his victim to the very brink of madness.

Then Marik felt himself tighten, felt the urge to go even faster. He let go of his prey in order to move with everything he had. The damn runt grabbed him and kissed him as they both started to cum.

The pleasure was surreal, flooding his brain with a satisfied mix of chemicals that made it hard to stay in control. For some strange reason, he whispered Ryou's name before he sank back to the bottom of Marik's mind.

* * *

 

Marik had felt everything, but he couldn't remember part of it, like why his pants were off and how Bakura had gotten onto his back. He also felt a strange bond towards Bakura, one he couldn't really explain.

"That was . . ."

"Worth the bother?" Marik teased.

Bakura gave him a sleepy grin. "I suppose, though I sort of phased out right before the end, and Ryou seems to be passed out now."

Marik wondered about that for a moment, how they both seemed to have lost track of their bodies for a moment; however the sight of Bakura distracted him, and he couldn't focus. Something about Bakura's mouth, his lips, had Marik in a trance as he leaned forward and started kissing Bakura. It felt odd, to kiss him after the fact. They were done. It was over. There was no need for such a stupid gesture of affection, and yet he couldn't help it.

At first Bakura tensed, but when Marik kept kissing with no signs of pulling away, Bakura reached up and strung his fingers through Marik's golden hair.

 


	22. Angst/Tornshipping "The Grapefruit Technique"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Angst/Tornshipping prompt making fun of "The Grapefruit Technique" video on YouTube. You can look it up, it's semi-NSFW (because she demonstrates on a dong). There's no active smut in this, but it didn't seem appropriate for the Cotton Candy Stand, so it's staying in here.***

Marik had shared an apartment with Ryou for a couple of years, but it'd only been within the last month that they started sleeping together. Sometimes Ryou got nervous. He couldn't shake the feeling that the spirit would have done everything differently somehow - better. That's why Ryou ended up spending his Saturday afternoon in the spare room, on the internet, trying to find some useful tips to polish up his blow-job techniques.

He  _thought_  he was doing a good job already. Marik always moaned and grew extra hard in Ryou's mouth. That meant he was doing something right, didn't it? Nonetheless, Ryou figured it couldn't hurt to see if there was anything  _more_  he could do to make it even better. Most of the lists claiming to  _blow his mind_ , were basic, common sense things. Cover your teeth with your lips? Really? It didn't really take a genius to figure out that teeth scraping against your boyfriend's cock might not be the best strategy.

He was about to give up when he saw a strange video called  _The Grapefruit Technique._ He assumed that  _grapefruit_  was some sort of English language slang for something else entirely - maybe slang for an asshole? The woman in the video certainly seemed very colloquial; however, the video was literally about giving your boyfriend a handjob with a grapefruit while sucking his tip.

Ryou fell out of his chair laughing.

"Ryou? Are you okay?" Marik walked into the spare room, drying his hair with a towel after a shower.

"You have to watch this!" Ryou gasped as he held his stomach. "It's so dumb!"

"If it's dumb, why would I watch it?"

"Because, I need someone to share the pain with." Ryou looked up at Marik as he stayed on the floor. "Please?"

Marik rolled his eyes, smiling. "I have trouble saying no to you."

"I know, and I take advantage of it." Ryou sat back in his hair, rolling an extra one over to his computer so Marik could sit down.

Marik frowned at the video. "Is this . . . a joke?"

"I don't know. It's so hard to tell on the internet sometimes."

They both erupted into laughter, watching the video simply to laugh at how serious the woman seemed to be about using a grapefruit as a sex toy. Their guilty moment of humor was interrupted by a knock on the door. Ryou jumped to his feet. A sheepish grin covered his face as he ran to answer the door while Marik paused their video.

Ryou opened the door, expected Yugi, or Honda, or Mai, maybe even Rashid although he usually called before visiting.

He didn't expect to see Bakura standing in the doorway, hair fluffed high and wind-mussed, shoulders still draped in a black coat that Ryou had thrown away years ago.

Ryou gasped. "Y-you . . ."

He smirked, pleased with Ryou's reaction. "Surprised?"

"Ryou, who is it?" Marik called from the computer room, but Ryou didn't have enough breath to answer.

Bakura's sanguine eyes flicked deeper into the apartment, his confidence faltered. "Is that . . ."

Ryou smiled. "Yeah, it is. Come inside, Bakura."

"Am I interrupting?" he asked. For once, he sounded as if he might have actually been sorry for such intrusion - he'd never had issue with disrupting Ryou's life before.

"No," Ryou answered, but that wasn't a big question in the scheme of things. "Bakura - how?"

He shrugged, grinning. "No idea."

"That's hard to believe."

"Is it?"

Marik met them in the hallway, wondering who Ryou was speaking to. His skin paled the moment he saw who stood beside Ryou. "How?"

"Why doesn't everyone keep asking me that?"

"Because you were dead." Marik scowled. "It's been years."

"It's been over three-thousand years since I've been  _dead_. The last few I've merely been . . . elsewhere."

Marik made a wide, questioning gesture. "Elsewhere  _where_?"

"I can't really remember. The Shadow Realm, I suppose."

"Then how did you escape!"

Bakura furrowed his white eyebrows, frowning. "I  _don't_  remember, Marik. I just remember standing in front of a door, so I knocked. Ryou answered." He grinned again. "So I figured I was in the right place."

Marik snorted loudly through his nose, but he also smiled. "Yeah, I guess."

"So . . ." Ryou toyed with his fingers. "Are you hungry . . . or tired? Do you need anything?"

"No. I'm fine."

"I don't know . . ." Marik clicked his tongue as if sympathetic towards Bakura. "You look really tired."

"Not really."

"No - you  _definitely_ look tired. Exhausted, I'd say. Right, Ryou?"

"Hmmmm . . ." Ryou pursed his lips. "Yeah. I think he looks like he needs a nap. I mean, just appearing out of thin air like that. It'd be enough to exhaust any man."

"Well, since he is our guest, I suppose we should put him to bed."

Ryou blinked, trying to act as innocent as possible. "But Marik, we only have the one bed now."

"That's right." Marik's grinned widened. "I'll guess he'll just have to lay down in our bed, then. It can't be helped."

Bakura rolled his eyes, slipping off his jacket and leaving it on the hallway floor. "If you idiots want to sleep with me just say so. The seduction is unnecessary." As he walked towards their room he pulled his shirt up over his shoulders and through that on the ground as well.

In their bedroom, Marik grabbed him and whispered something in his ear. Ryou didn't like the look on Marik's face - he had on his scheming face.

Bakura raised a white eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

Marik started licking the shell of Bakura's eyes. "Please, it will be really hot, 'Kura."

Bakura only rolled his eyes, and then he glanced at Ryou. "Would you mind if I blindfolded you? Apparently Marik's in a mood to sit back and watch you squirm."

Ryou giggled, cheeks turning coral. "Okay."

A few minutes later Ryou sat on the edge of his bed, blindfolded, with Bakura's slipping his pants off.

Marik's voice interrupted the scene. "Bakura, why do you have a grapefruit?"

Ryou started hiccuping laughter.

"What the hell are you talking about, Ishtar?"

He finished slipping the jeans away from Ryou's legs, but Marik just clicked his tongue. "Ah, he's rolling it now, Ryou, getting those juices ready for you."

"Seriously, Marik, what the fuck are you talking about? You're the one that told me to blindfold him and suck him off."

"Not he's cutting a hole in the middle. Ew, the juice is getting all over your good sheets."

Ryou had to lay on the bed because he was laughing so hard. As soon as he caught his breath he turned his blindfolded eyes towards Marik's voice. "Don't knock it, we'll grapefruit you next."

"WHAT THE FUCK IS A GRAPEFRUIT?"

Now Ryou and Marik were both gasping for breath between chuckles as Bakura growled. Ryou slipped off the blindfold and sat back up. "Okay, okay, okay. It's really not fair. Come on, Bakura, let me show you a thing."

Completely naked, Ryou dragged Bakura into the computer room with Marik following them. They only had two chairs, so Ryou sat in Bakura's lap and he clicked on the youtube video from the beginning. He watched it, scowling, although Ryou couldn't tell if he was scowling from the video or because he was having trouble translating the English.

When it was over, Marik and Ryou were laughing, but Bakura sat there like an angry cat.

"You two are morons."

Ryou shifted his naked ass into Bakura's crotch. "Don't pout. It was funny."

He looked away. "Whatever, I was going to actually try and make this nice for you two, and you're laughing about produce."

Marik slipped off his shirt and tossed it at Bakura's face. "Hey Bakura?"

Bakura tossed the shirt to the floor, scowling. "What?"

Marik leaned forward, bringing up PornHub and doing a quick search on DP. "I have another video I want you to watch - you'll like this one."

 


	23. Rivalshipping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Rivalshipping prompt with top Yugi***

"I win," Seto said.

Yugi stared at the illusion of the Blue Eyes destroying his last creature with muted, detached interest. "You don't sound very happy."

Seto shrugged, taking the Duel Disk off and setting it aside. "I need a drink. Do you want a drink?"

"That sounds good, yeah." Yugi removed his own Disk and followed Kaiba out of the room where they had their duels.

They went to Seto's bedroom. He had a table and chairs and a scotch bar all off to the corner. Yugi slumped in one of the chairs near the table, staring at nothing.

"Ice?"

"Please."

Yugi heard a clink, and the sound of liquid pouring from a decanter, and then Seto was in front of him with a glass of scotch.

Yugi looked up at him and tried to smile. "Thanks."

Seto nodded, dropping into the chair next to Yugi and drinking heavily from his own glass.

"I thought you'd be happy," Yugi whispered.

"It's not the same, though. Is it?"

"No . . . not the same . . ."

They finished their drinks too quickly, and Seto went and fetched the bottle, pouring seconds, then setting the decanter on the table between them.

It wasn't until the third drink that Yugi was brave enough to ask Seto the question nagging at him. "Hey Kaiba? Do you miss him?"

"That would be stupid."

"I miss him."

"Of course you do."

Yugi clutched at his own shirt, right over his heart. "It hurts."

"Of course it does."

"Shut-up." Yugi clenched his jaw. "Don't say it so casually."

Seto's eyes shot across the table to Yugi. "I'll say it however I want."

"Then I'll shut you up however I want."

Seto laughed. "Are you already drunk?"

"No . . . maybe a touch."

Seto laughed, the scotch hitting them both harder than they imagined. "Then perhaps we should have one more?"

Yugi hummed, staring at the almost gone chip of ice that had started as a big chunk. "Better not. We'll wake up in bed together like last time."

With  _that_ suggestion, Seto picked up the decanter and poured them both one last shot. He held up the iceless glass. "To grief."

Yugi matched the toast. "To your victory."

They downed their final drink and set the glasses down. Seto moved first, yanking Yugi out of his chair and kissing him. He started removing Yugi's clothes, his fingers getting tangled in the buckles and snaps. "Why do you  _dress_  like this?" Seto complained as he struggled.

"To make guys earn it." Yugi laughed as he easily stripped Seto and pushed him down on the bed. He removed his own pants and climbed on top of Seto, continuing to laugh. "This is ridiculous. You're so tall."

Seto smirked, reaching for a drawer in his headboard and taking out a bottle of lube to hand to Yugi. After prepping him, Yugi slung Seto's leg over his shoulder. Seto's pale calf draped down Yugi's back as Yugi straddled Seto's other leg and pushed inside.

"You're blushing," Yugi whispered, a playful smile on his face.

"It's just the booze." Seto also smiled, but he turned to the side and hid it in a stray pillow.

Yugi grabbed Seto's cock and started to slide his thumb up and down Seto's erect shaft. Seto rolled his eyes into his head and moaned at the teasing caresses.

"Mmmmm." Yugi hummed approval at Seto's reaction.

"Don't . . . you . . . dare." Seto gasped between each thrust. The flush on his face was brighter now, and sweat glistening off of his temples.

Yugi's hair shifted as he moved. He kept teasing Seto's cock as he angled himself to strike Seto's prostate. "What? This?"

Seto screamed, clawing at the sheets below them.

"That's right-" Yugi paused to suck in a breath as his own pleasure mounted. "Last time I worked you up until you said we were best friends."

With the reminder, Seto sat up. His new pose made it hard for Yugi to maneuver. They stared at each other, even as Yugi slowly pumped against Seto's prostate.

"Lay down," Seto said.

Yugi slipped out and untangled their limbs enough to lay on his back. "Since you won our duel I guess that's only fair."

Yugi expected Seto to start prepping him, but the CEO straddled him instead. Yugi gasped as he watched Seto impale himself. Seto leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and started to ride Yugi.

"This is a nice show."

Seto opened one eye and smirked.

Soon, Yugi was panting hard. He grabbed Seto again, but this time he didn't tease. He used one hand to stoke Seto while using the other to play with Seto's balls.

"Yugi," he growled.

"Don't worry. No teasing this time. Cum."

Seto sighed, relaxing his shoulders as he moved faster. Then he came on Yugi's stomach, rolling off as soon as he finished. Yugi found the lube and re-doused them. He slipped back inside and started moving.

And Seto started to laugh.

"Oh, come on, Seto!" Yugi called out, breathless because of his movements.

"You're so far away."

Yugi stretched up and nipped at Seto's nipple, making Seto call out. He grabbed one of Seto's legs again and hiked it up, allowing him to get closer to Seto's face. "So?" Yugi asked. "Are you going to meet me halfway?"

Seto rolled his eyes and leaned forward so Yugi could kiss him as he finished. Afterward, he lay on Seto's chest. "Don't . . . say . . . anything about how much longer your legs are."

"I'm not saying anything." Seto smirked, although his tone said it for him.

 


	24. Deathshipping/ Battle City AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was for a Deathshipping Battle City AU

"Kaiba, listen to yourself," Anzu pleaded. "Haven't enough people been hospitalized? Postpone the next match."

"I refuse," Kaiba said.

"Rishid already got struck by lightning, and the storm outside is getting worse!" Jounouchi shouted. "Stop the tournament!"

"Not only do I refuse to postpone a single match, but anyone that has a problem with it will be disqualified."

"Is that how you have to win, Kaiba?" The Pharaoh smirked, and Marik could see the effect he had in the way that Kaiba bristled at the comment. The Pharaoh took a step forward, confident and sure that he'd win even this small debate, let alone the bigger tournament. "Because all of us refuse to duel until the storm passes. Will you disqualify us all? Will you settle for winning based on a technicality instead of your skill?"

"Don't speak for us all." Marik frowned, thinking how the arrogant bastard had to right to assume that everyone would follow his lead.

The Pharaoh shot him a disdained glance before turning back to the CEO. "Come on, Kaiba, you know who you'd rather face in the Finals, and it's not Marik."

Arrogant fucking bastard indeed, but his tactics worked. With a scowl, Kaiba turned his head. "Fine." He walked over to an intercom and pushed a button. "Schedule an emergency in-flight refueling. We're postponing the Duel until we fly out of this storm."

Marik snorted in disgust and walked away. He wandered towards Rishid's room, thinking it a good time to murder his long-hated adversary; however, voices informed him that Yugi and co were on their way to pay the man a visit. Marik took a sharp right and walked away from Rishid's room, not wanting to kill the Pharaoh . . . yet - not until it was time to sacrifice him directly to the Shadows.

Aimless, Marik found himself in galley. He paused and blinked when he noticed one of his other side's pawns sitting on the galley floor, a minor feast spread out before him.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, hello. Want some donuts? They're pretty good!"

Bored, Marik decided to toy with the little bunny nibbling on sweets on the tiled floor. He walked over to him, sitting down in front of him and grinning. "You've noticed I'm not the same one, right?"

"You've notice that isn't really special around here, right?" the pretty dove dared to answer back without any sign of fear in his voice.

Marik was annoyed and amused at the same time - the little angel did have point.

He offered him a round sort of pastry. "Eat. C'mon, even dark spirits get hungry." He flashed a demure smile at Marik. "I say that on very good authority."

He leaned over and took a huge bite straight from the little angel's hand. A rush of yeast and sweetness filled his mouth. It wasn't bad, so he continued to eat it straight from the pawn's hand, maintaining eye contact the entire time and watching with relish as the little dove started to blush.

When the sweet was devoured, Marik asked, "Bakura, right?"

He nodded. "Yes, my name is Ryou Bakura, and you're Marik Ishtar. It's a pleasure to meet you, Marik." Ryou gave a polite bow of his head by way of greeting. When he straightened, he leaned forward, reaching out his hand. "You have powdered sugar on your lips."

On reflex, Marik grabbed Bakura's hand and growled.

"Oh sweetie, I'm not going to hurt you," Bakura said, too sincerely for Marik's liking. Perhaps that was why, when Bakura leaned forward and licked the sugar from Marik's lips, that Marik didn't snap Bakura's wrist. Bakura jerked away, brown-sugar eyes wide and blinking. "Oh dear, I don't know what possessed me to act so rudely, please forgive me."

Marik snorted, he had an idea of why. Their other halves had been repressing more than their share of sexual desire earlier, and it only made sense that the pent up energy still lingered in their bodies. For the same reason, Marik found himself lunging towards Bakura, slamming him on the galley floor, laying on top of him, and sucking hard at his tender lips.

He was surprised, and excited, when Bakura responded by digging his slender fingers into Marik's hair and yanking hard. He was ruthless for such a polite creature, pulling with real strength and not simply a lover's tug. The pain, although mild, was exquisite. Ryou Bakura bucked up with his hips, trying to instigate Marik to go further.

"Why aren't you afraid?" Marik growled.

The little angel shrugged. "I've seen some shit, what's one more monster? At least I have some time in my own body for a change."

"And you're sharing it with me. How generous."

His tone was dry and sardonic, but Ryou smiled. "But wouldn't you like it? Some time in my body."

The joke was dumb enough to incite a manic giggle from Marik. He answered by stipping Ryou of his pants. "If you touch my back I will break your fingers."

"But I want to hold you."

Marik grabbed both of Ryou's wrists and slammed them against the floor. "I said  _no_."

"Oh . . . okay. A-are you hurt? Can I help?"

Marik snorted. "No, bunny, you can't help. Old wounds." He grabbed the collar of Ryou's shirt and tore the fabric in half, tossing the rag to the side. He noticed a starker white maring Ryou's white chest. He placed his fingertips near the mounds of scaring. "Hmmm . . . I suppose you understand though."

Ryou nodded, trying to smirk but it looked sympathetic instead of sarcastic. "What about your ass? Can I grab that?"

"Waist down is fair game."

"Okay." Ryou wiggled out from Marik's body weight. "Get undressed."

"Where are you going?"

"I tried spit once, it was awful, but I remember seeing olive oil in the pantry."

"Oil?"

Ryou laughed. "You'll see."

He returned a moment later with a jar, shrugging. "Coconut oil. I've read that some people use it. Better than nothing."

Marik scowled, not understanding until Ryou lathered Marik's cock with the pleasant scented oil. The glob looked white and solid in Ryou's hand, but melted and turned clear the moment it touched Marik's hot flesh. Ryou stroked the oil across Marik's skin, drawing out the full length of Marik's cock. Next he took another dollop of oil and used it to work his fingers into himself.

Marik licked his lips and he stared. Ryou winced as he worked, face heating up and flushing pink. It looked like a wonderful mix of pleasure with a hint of pain and he wanted to trying it on himself.

"Sit up." Ryou gave a little gasp after speaking.

Marik sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor. Ryou crawled into his lap, hooking an arm around Marik's neck. "Is this okay?"

Marik nodded.

"Okay, hold onto me so I don't feel off balance and accidentally grab your back."

Marik followed the instructions. He wasn't sure if his other self was a virgin or not, but  _he'd_ never had sex before, so he was content to sit there and take instruction. He could have forced Ryou on the ground and done whatever he wanted, but that didn't seem as good somehow. Usually he loved pain and tears, but in this instance, he prefered the blush on Ryou's face, and the mutual hunger in Ryou's eyes.

Ryou took his free hand and used it to hold Marik's cock in place as he slide down. Ryou grunted. "N-not the same as lube. Damn. Give me a second."

He licked his lips again, watching Ryou get used to the feeling of Marik's girth inside of him. Ryou experimented by raising up, and settling back down, groaning as he came to rest back in Marik's lap. "Not have as bad as my arm." He laughed.

Marik's fingers dug into Ryou's sides. Instincts demanded that he pushed up while slamming Ryou down, and thus he did just that, only, for Ryou's sake, he made sure to do it slowly. His grunts became a loud, long moan as Marik pulled Ryou down and closer. He sounded pleased, so Marik set up a slow rhythm, easing Ryou up, dragging him down. After a few minutes, he sped up. Ryou tossed his head back, grabbing Marik's shoulder with his free hand and then jerking his hand away as if burned.

"It's okay," Marik whispered.

"Are y-you sure?" Ryou gasped as they continued to move.

"Just the shoulder."

Ryou grabbed Marik's shoulder again, using the added stability to move a little faster. The extra pressure and speed on Marik's cock was worth the light touch on his shoulder, and with his back against the open air, Marik's scars didn't itch near as much as he had feared. Then again, that may have had something to do with Ryou's tight, hot flesh squeezing him and distracting all his thoughts. Ryou was openly moaning now, circling his hips as fast as he could. His hand slipped away from Marik's shoulder and went to the coconut oil. He lathered himself with white oil that melted as it touched him and began to work himself towards orgasim.

Seeing that Ryou was close, lured Marik closer to the edge as well. Every strand of misplaced hair, every sweat drop, every detail about Ryou was erotic and Marik came with a held breath even as Ryou came.

They sat together, forehead pressed against forehead, but they didn't get to enjoy the afterglow for long. Before either of them had a chance to catch their breath, they heard voices from down the hall.

"Oh dammit." Ryou jumped up, his body movement awkward as if sore. He tossed his pants and shoes back on, and grabbed his torn shirt. Marik also dressed. They ran out a side door just before the voices entered the kitchen. Ryou and Marik stood behind the other door, hands clasped over their mouths to suppress their laughter. "That was a little too close," Ryou whispered. "Want to go to my room to take a nap?"

Marik thought about it. He  _should_  go to Rishid's room and kill him now that everyone was in the kitchen - their muffled voices asking why there was half eaten food all over the floor. And yet a nap  _did_  sound tempting.

 


	25. Yamishipping/ AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Yamishipping au prompt where Mariku tops, Bakura bottoms, and Yami is in between. ***

Blood filled his mouth. Bakura swallowed, the taste of copper and iron sliding down his throat. He was trapped in an alley, five other guys around him. They looked as he did, split lips and black eyes, but five on one were odds Bakura couldn't keep up with.

A fist found his ribs and he doubled over. A pair of laced fists smashed into the back of Bakura's head knees crashed to the pavement. Five pairs of feet kicked at him, and all Bakura could do was cover his face and hope he survived.

Then everything stopped. Bakura peeked up and watched two other figures walk into the alley.

"Come to save your boyfriend?" one of them jerred.

"Maybe. Gonna try and stop us?"

Bakura recognized Mariku's voice and grinned despite his swollen bottom lip. His attackers were fucked. Mariku carried a baseball bat and wore a manic grin, but it was Yami the others really needed to look out for. He had one hand shoved in his pocket as the other toyed with a Zippo lighter.

Someone swung at Mariku. He dodged without issue and then swung. The bay connected to the bastard's face. Blood and teeth sprayed out of his mouth, and his nose went crooked. He dropped to the ground.

Meanwhile, some fool charged at Yami. He pulled something from his pocket and flicked his lighter. A fireball bloomed out before, setting the attacking fool on fire.

Mariku managed to break a third asshole's kneecap before the other two retreated. Then Bakura felt himself being lifted up into Mariku's arms.

"I had it," Bakura muttered, though he wasn't going anyone.

"We know." Yami grinned. "We just wanted out share of the fun."

They carried Bakura back to their apartment, leaving the three bodies with varying damage behind.

Back at home, they lay Bakura on their bed and started to undress him.

"Oh Bakura." Yami frowned, teaching his fingers over the bruises clouding Bakura's ribs.

"I'm fine." He winced. "just give me some aspirin."

They left and came back with aspirin, ice packs, and a wet cloth. Yami bathed Bakura's cuts while Mariku pressed ice against Bakura's bruises.

He hissed at both their gentle touches and the cold. "Really,  _ah_ , I'm fine. You c-can stop."

"Fucking bastard." Mariku snorted. "You're flushed as hell. This is getting you off, isn't it"

He had to admit, the combination of their caresses, the mild pain, and then ice was making Bakura's pants tight."

"What can I say?" Bakura smirked. "You know I don't mind a little pain."

"Take off his pants Yami."

"Fun as that sounds, Mariku, is it prudent?"

"Bakura's had a rough night. I think he needs a little love and care to help him recover. Plus I want to shove a few of these ice cubes up his ass and watch him squirm."

Yami glanced at Bakura, and Bakura nodded to show that he was onboard. They propped several pillows behind him and stripped off his pants.

Yami's hot mouth trailed down Bakura's bare, white chest. As Yami kissed his skin, Mariku traced his nipple with an ice cube. Bakura groaned, trying to stay still and relax so he didn't further hurt himself.

Mariku toyed with Bakura's thigh and then shoved the first ice cube inside. Yami followed the action by licking Bakura's entrance. The mix of hot and cold made Bakura's belly hitch with pleasure.

By the third ice cube, Bakura was reaching to grab himself, but Yami held his wrists to stop him. Mariku forced a final ice cube past Bakura's asshole before grabbing the lube. Bakura was already wet from spit and melting ice, but he allowed Yami to prep him.

Yami slipped inside, closing his maroon eyes and sighing.

Bakura grabbed his hair, pulling their faces close. "Nice and tight isn't it, bitch? Makes you want to cum already.

Mariku smacked Yami's narrow ass before he began to prep him. "Bakura, your a fucking whore." He growled as he fucked Yami's asshole with two slick fingers.

"Fuck yeah I'm a whore." He grunted as Yami rammed his cock in deep. "Why else would I have let five guys pound me in an alley? That was foreplay."

"You're awful," Yami whispered, moaning as Mariku shoved inside him. "You could have been hurt."

"Never. Forget about that and focus on my tight ass wrapped around your prick."

Each time Mariku shoved forward, Yami thrust deeper. Between Mariku rocking into him, and Bakura squeezing around him, Yami was the first to come.

Afterward, Bakura shifted up so that his cock bobbed an inch away from Yami's lips. Bakura grabbed another fist full of tri-colred hair and shoved Yami's face down. Saliva dripped down Bakura's shaft as Yami sucked and slurped at Bakura's cock, careless in the way he occasionally let his teeth scrape Bakura's shaft.

After Bakura came, he settled down into the pillows, petting Yami's hair as Mariku continued the plow him from behind.

"You cock-sucking bitch!" Mariku screamed as he pulled out in time to spray Yami's ass with his hot seed.

Bakura grinned because he knew Mariku had meant in as a compliment to Yami. Both Yami and Mariku laid on either side of Bakura, checking his bruises and making sure none of his cuts bleed.

Bakura started at the ceiling, trying not to think about the alley. "You guys? Thanks for bringing home."

Yami shrugged. "You know we got your back."

"Of course we'll talk a lot of shit." Mariku snorted. "But if anyone else ever messes with you we'll fuck them up."

"Yeah … I know."

 


	26. Monarchshipping/ Egyptian Succubi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Request for Monarchshipping (For them to **** until they pass out). I didn't even know this was a thing, and at first it didn't make sense to me, but then I thought of Geminshipping and was like, well . . . yeah . . . but I've never read any Monarch or even seen headcanons on Tumblr, so I just wrote a really weird thing that's a mix between a incubus au and an Ancient Egyptian au.***

Atem woke up to the image of his own eyes staring back at him. At least, they looked the same shade of magenta. The hair was also the same, a spray of black, pink, and gold. At the same time . . . there was something wrong with the face. Not just because it was pale, the color of white orchid petals instead of Atem's smooth almond hue, there was something in the copy's expression that made him different.

"Are you a demon?" Atem asked. He wanted to sit up, but his copy had him pinned to the bed.

"I'm you."

Atem stared a moment longer, thinking about it. "You're darker than me. I don't want to be you."

The creature snorted, shrugged. His clothes were strange. He didn't wear a shenti or robe. His clothing was stitched to fit his body shape. Both the black and dark blue colors were darker than Atem had seen in cloth before, although the shinny black didn't seem like proper cloth.

The copy smirked. "You're staring."

"You're strange," Atem snapped back. "What's your name?"

He looked off to the side, as if trying to remember. "Yami."

Like the clothes, the name sounded foreign somehow, but Atem nodded to acknowledge it. "What do you want, Yami?"

Yami leaned forward, eyes big and voracious. "I want . . . to be whole. I want your memories."

Atem blinked, trying to back away but he was already pressed into his pillow. "My . . . memories? How will that make you whole?"

"Because I'm you, but I'm incomplete."

"Are . . . you going to steal my memories, then?"

Yami chuckled. "No. I would never hurt you. We can share them."

Yami closed the gap between them, pressing their lips together. Atem reached up, trying to push the not-quite-him away, but once he realized Yami wasn't hurting him, Atem relaxed and allowed the kiss.

Yami pulled away and licked his lips. "We've lived here our whole lives, in this palace."

Atem nodded, wondering what memory the creature (he had trouble seeing it as himself still) saw with the kiss.

"I need more." Yami stole Atem's mouth again. He combed Atem's hair with his fingers and pulled the covers away from his naked body.

Yami pulled back again, slipping off his strange garments. "It's not fast enough. I  _need more_."

Atem watched with his mouth ajar and his eyes blinking. Yami was a touch thinner, bones peaking from his white skin. He did have an "incomplete" sort of look as thin as his body was, but it wasn't unattractive. When Yami squirmed his way between Atem's legs, Atem's heart started pounding, realization hitting him all at once.

"Wait. I have almond oil. Let me get ready first."

But Yami didn't seem interested in waiting. He looked wild with need. He rammed into Atem's body. Atem held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut. He expected pain and friction, but it didn't feel that way at all. Yami slipped in without issue, and once inside Atem gasped because it felt like an oncoming storm in his loins.

"More . . . please . . . more," Yami begged, mouth open in a silent scream as he pushed deep and hard into Atem's body.

Atem wrapped his legs around his darker counterpart, squeezing his thighs around him and bucking back with each thrust. Their mouths clashes together, wet and eager. They didn't look exactly the same, but they moved exactly the same, slamming their hips together at the exact same moment, making sure each thrust was as hard and true as possible.

Atem shuddered, feeling himself climb.

"Wait," Yami hissed. "Wait, a little longer . . . I'm almost whole."

Atem sighed, trying to calm his racing heart with slow breaths, but it wasn't easy to ease back from the mysterious edge of which he was about to hurtle past. Yami moaned, tugging at Atem's hair and somehow going faster. Atem couldn't match his pace, it wasn't quite human, just as Yami had a sense of not being quite human, but it was an amazing feeling, that slick, maddening speed pumping in and out of his body.

"Yami - I can't wait - please . . ."

Yami bit Atem's bottom lip, drawing a drop of blood. He grabbed Atem's shaft and started twisting his wrist up and down with the same speed as he thrust. Atem grabbed Yami's hair, realizing the texture was a little different, a little softer, but he couldn't think of it for long because the storm building inside him broke, bringing a downpour of physical gratification.

Then Atem felt like he was falling, falling forever downward into cool darkness, but he wasn't afraid because Yami held him. He saw a vision, endless black, lonely, millennia of black, and then . . . another world opened before Atem. The world Yami knew, friends for the first time after thousands of years, and games . . . dark games.

Atem tried to hold onto the vision, tried to absorb it all, but his mind slipped down deeper, past memories and past visions, into sleep.


	27. Ryou multi ships (Ryou/Jounouchi/Yugi, Ryou/Seto, Ryou/Marik, Ryou/Thief King)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Multiship requested with Ryou being with at least Jounouchi/Seto/and Marik, with the option of me adding others, so I tossed Yugi in with the Jounouchi section, and added TKB at the end. The line I was suppose to use was "i'm really starting to like being everyone's first gay experience."***
> 
> FYI: Holidays are going to make me update this a little slower, so sorry about that in advance.

Yugi couldn't stand the way Jounouchi looked with his bangs falling over his eyes and his mouth curled into a grin. He, Jounouchi, and Ryou were in Yugi's room playing Duel Monsters. The entire night Yugi kept catching Jounouchi staring at him, but neither of them had made a move during the night, or any of the previous nights.

Ryou wasn't helping. He kept giving Yugi  _go get him_  looks, trying to egg Yugi on, but all it did was make Yugi nervous. He'd give on a few dates with Anzu, even kissed her a few times, but in the end, they decided they were better off as friends, and Yugi didn't have any experience with dating past her.

Jounouchi left to get some sodas for everyone and Ryou smacked Yugi's shoulder. "Yugi, what are you doing?"

"Nothing." Yugi rubbed his shoulder, wondering why Ryou had smacked him.

"Yeah, that's the problem. If the sexual tension was any thicker in the room I'd choke on it. Why don't you make a move?"

"Um, well, I …"

"Is it because I'm here? Because I can go."

"Please don't," Yugi insisted. "If you're not here, it'll be even more awkward."

Ryou sighed, but Jounouchi returned before he could say anything further. When Jounouchi handed Yugi a drink, their fingers brushed together and Jounouchi's cheeks glowed red. Yugi smiled. Jounouchi was too damn cute. He was always confident and eager to jump into a new situation, but something about  _this_ had him just as nervous as Yugi and it was too damn cute.

He and Jounouchi were staring at each other again, so neither one of them noticed when Ryou found the tape beneath Yugi's bed.

"Hmmmm, what's this?" Ryou asked with a knowing tone as he popped the tape into the VCR and hit play.

Yugi and Jounouchi both turned beet red when moaning came from the tv screen.

"What's this Yugi?" Ryou batted his eyelashes. "You watch these sorts of movies?"

"It's my fault!" Jounouchi shouted on reflex, as if taking a punch for Yugi. "I let him borrow it."

"Oh? So you watch these sorts of movies as well, Jounouchi?"

"Well, I mean . . ."

"That's a really old tape," It was Yugi's turn to try and defend Jounouchi. "We watched that one back in high school."

"Are there newer ones? I've never watched a pornographic film before." Ryou looked at then like a kid wanting to stay up past his bedtime.

"Uh, no one really watches tapes anymore." Jounouchi shrugged. "Everything is on the internet these days."

"Really?" Ryou said it as if he'd never considered the notion of internet porn before. He grabbed his laptop and pulled up a web browser before either of them could think of an excuse to go back to their forgotten card game.

Ryou wedged himself between them and started playing a video with the guys.

"Wait." Jounouchi scowled after a few tense, silent minutes. "Why did you pick this one?"

Ryou cooed. "I thought if I showed you both this one then maybe you guys would take the hint."

Yugi and Jounouchi's eyes grew round. They looked at Ryou and then each other.

"So . . . are you going to kiss Yugi, Jounouchi or do I have to get this started?

Everything was fuzzy after that. Jounouchi grabbed Yugi and kissed him, then Ryou kissed him. Then they were pawing at each other's clothes and running their hands along naked flesh. Yugi wasn't even sure who handed him a 2oz bottle of lube or where it came from, but as soon as Yugi felt Ryou's fingers stretching him, he knew that he should do the same to Jounouchi.

It didn't last long. It couldn't have. They were all too wound up and eager. He managed to press into Jounouchi, consumed by the squeezing heat of Jounouchi's body, and then Ryou was inside him, stretching him and filling him. Yugi started stroking Jounouchi, and after he came, Yugi only lasted two minutes longer.

Only Ryou had any stamina out of the three of them, and that's when Yugi realized it wasn't Ryou's first time. He was always grateful to Ryou for that, for helping them break the ice and overcome their jitters. Yugi had bought a dozen cinnamon rolls the next day for breakfast as an unspoken thank you.

* * *

Seto Kaiba was watching Yugi play in yet another tournament, infuriated that he couldn't be in said tournament for legal reasons. Kaiba Corp was promoting a new software update in the Duel Disks that allowed for smoother, more animated monsters. Unfortunately, Kaiba's legal team insisted it'd be unwise for him to participate, since it would look like a rigged game, so instead of winning, he was forced to be a spectator.

"This is boring," a voice whispered behind him.

Seto glanced over his shoulder and noticed Bakura standing behind him.

Ryou smiled. "Admit it. You'd rather be doing anything else right now."

Seto smirked "Perhaps."

"Do you have a suite?"

The tournament was in a large hotel with a suitable convention room for Duel Monster games. "As a matter of fact, I do."

Ryou's smile widened. "Want to play a game of our own? Something more hands-on than cards?"

Seto studied Bakura. He was attractive, white hair falling carelessly around his cheeks, brown eyes rich and inviting. Seto nodded and lead the way. He put the  _Do Not Disturb_  tag on the door before shutting it. "Do you want a drink?"

"I think your legs wrapped around my waist would be more refreshing than a glass of scotch."

Seto raised an eyebrow. He approved of the bold, direct speech. Ryou had a secret reputation for being coy. At least he was smart enough to realize that wasn't the way Seto operated. Seto opened his mouth to retort, but Ryou slammed him against the bed before Seto could say anything.

Seto never had an opportunity for casual socialization, so he'd never been on a personal date before. Had someone told him before that moment that he'd enjoy being manhandled, Seto would have scoffed at them, but here he was, moaning as Ryou sucked at his throat and ripped off his clothes.

"So, Mr. Kaiba," Ryou teased as he finished tearing the clothing from both of their bodies. "Would you like me inside of you?"

Seto felt his face flush at the question, but he nodded without hesitation. Ryou had several small packets of lube, and he used them to get them both slick. The first finger made Seto gasp, the second finger made Seto moan, and when Ryou himself entered Seto had to shove a pillow over his face to muffled his screams.

He couldn't believe what he'd been missing out on during those late nights of business meetings and number crunching. Ryou was hard and hot inside him, like dragon fire, oh god yes like dragon fire, and that burning heat made Seto come long before Ryou was ready, but even after he'd climaxed, Seto didn't mind the thick pressure inside his body.

Ryou was attentive until the very end, kissing Seto's chest, toying with his hair, whispering sweet, erotic nothing's against the shell of Seto's ear, and when it was over, Ryou kissed Seto's mouth and gave him a quick shoulder rub to ease the tension from Seto's back.

"You're technically on duty." Ryou laughed, his hair a stunning catastrophe of white. He grabbed Seto's phone and typed in his phone number. "So I'm going to disappear and let you get back to your business, but I would enjoy it if you called me sometime."

"Even I have to eat dinner. Maybe you'd like to join me?"

Ryou smiled. "That would be nice. Tomorrow. Seven."

* * *

Marik was better, so much better than during Battle City, but sometimes, if it got too dark, or if someone touched his back on accident, Marik still had panic attacks. After what felt like an hour of blackening vision and fighting for each godsdamned breath, Marik started to come to and realized he was crouched beneath Ryou's kitchen table.

"How . . ."

Ryou squeezed Marik's hand. "Someone bumped into your back in the elevator and you ran as soon as the door opened. I got you into the apartment, but you ducked down here and wouldn't respond to me." He leaned forward and kissed Marik's forehead. "Are you feeling any better? Would you like tea? Or to lay on my bed and be left alone?"

"I want . . ." Marik clenched his teeth, balling his hands into fists. "I want to be normal. I want to go a month without dealing with these fucking triggers. Ever since I banished my dark side it's been like this. I fucking hate this."

Ryou brushed a lock of Marik's hair behind his ear. Marik looked up, expecting pity, or tolerance, but what he saw was quiet empathy. Ryou didn't try to tell Marik it'd be okay like Ishizu did, or tell Marik to cheer up like Yugi did, he just sat there and waiting for Marik to talk. "I'm sorry." Marik shook his head. "I'm whining like a little bitch. I'm, I'll go just home."

"Don't go." Ryou squeezed his hands again. "At least drink some tea or-"

"Really. I'm fine." Marik crawled out from the table and stood. "I really should go."

"If you want to be alone I understand, but don't leave for my convenience." Ryou frowned. "I was having a lot of fun hanging out with you."

He leaned in a gave Marik a soft, delicate kiss on the lips. It was the sort of gesture that could be equally suggestive or chaste, so Marik wasn't sure how to interpret it, although he prefered the former. He dug the toe of his shoe against the tiled floor, thinking of how rude it was not to take off his shoes when he ran into the apartment in a panic. "Maybe I could stay a little longer."

"What do you want to do?"

Marik smirked. "You mentioned that I could lie down for a moment?"

"I'll go turn on the light." Ryou ran out of the kitchen.

Marik followed him, smiling at how thoughtful Ryou was compared to the Spirit. Ryou was bent over the bed, fluffing his pillows for Marik. Marik snuck behind him, resting his hands on Ryou's hips. Ryou sucked in a quick breath, standing straight on reflex. Once he realized what Marik was doing he leaning back so that his body was pressed into Marik's chest. "Did you need a teddy bear to help you sleep?"

"Would you volunteer if I said yes?"

"Well, you are my guest. I need to make sure you're comfortable."

"You really should stop being such a gracious host. It's gotten you into trouble before."

"It sure did." Ryou said with a little laugh that made Marik think he was making some sort of innuendo.

Ryou spun around, held Marik's face, and kissed him again, only this time there was no ambiguity in the act. They fell to the bed, Marik on top, and kneaded their lips together.

Ryou slipped his hands across Marik's belly. "Where can I touch? I don't want to upset you."

Marik shifted to his knees on the mattress and looked down at his own tank top. "I . . . don't . . .know." Marik clenched his teeth. He didn't like how weak he felt, so with a defiant tug, Marik jerked his shirt up over his head. Ryou's eyes locked onto the image of Marik's bare chest.

He sat up, Marik's knees on either side of his lap, and reached out his hand, hovering it over Marik's chest. "May I?"

Marik nodded. Ryou trailed his hand over one side of Marik's chest and then the other. He gave Marik's nipple a lick and cooed a little, kissing down Marik's sternum and teasing the hem of Marik's pants with his thumb

"Tell me when to stop," Ryou whispered. He kissed Marik's belly, sliding his thumb closer to Marik's hip.

Marik only sighed. His erection was straining against his pants, and Ryou nuzzled at the bulge with his lips while his fingers still explored Marik's skin. He unbuttoned Marik's pants, freeing Marik's cock. Ryou puckered his lips and blew cool air on Marik's tip. His fingers finally slid over to Marik's ass and up to his tailbone, but Marik was too aroused to feel anxious.

Suddenly he wanted Ryou to touch him, everywhere he could. Marik looked down, admiring the sight of Ryou's hands on Marik's skin. Marik took Ryou's wrists and slid them to his scars. He threw his head back and called out. Most of the pleasure was mental, finally allowing someone to touch him, but that didn't lessen the physical impact it had on Marik as he gasped and arched into Ryou's gentle touch.

They stood for a moment to drop their pants to the floor, crashing back onto the bed with Marik in Ryou's lap. Ryou's fingers traced up and down Marik's spine as he flicked his tongue across Marik's nipple, pulling Marik a little closer. Ryou pulled back a touch, taking hold of their erections and sliding them up and down.

Marik moved his hips to increase the contact and the friction. He braced one hand on Ryou's shoulder for balance and used his other hand to help Ryou stroke their cocks. Ryou kept his free hand on Marik's hip, guiding Marik's circling in a smooth, easy pace that allowed them to have more control of the flourishes of their interlocked hands.

Marik's body stiffened, he had to let go of himself so he could cling to Ryou's shoulders as he rode out his orgasm. Afterward, he glanced at Ryou through a screen of golden bangs. Ryou's brown eyes stared at Marik, gleaming. His cheeks were bright pink, his lips were parted so he could pant. Marik could tell that he was aroused by not close, so Marik slipped down to the floor, kicking their pants to either side of him, and wrapped his mouth around Ryou's cock.

"Marik," Ryou gasped, shutting his eyes and grabbing the comforter on their side of him.

Marik never thought of himself as the type to go down on another man - getting off from the thrill of watching someone else suck him was alway a fantasy of his, but he never intended to play fair and return the favor. Nonetheless, as he knelt on the carpet, sucking and allowing Ryou's head to rub against the back of his throat, Marik found himself greedily awaiting the moment when Ryou would shake, and moan, and pour himself into Marik's mouth.

Ryou's breathing betrayed his arousal. His soft pants because loud breaths and then lusty, intent groans. His cock twitched in Marik's mouth, head swollen, a thick vein throbbed against Marik's tongue. Ryou started to sway his hips up and then he screamed Marik's name before falling onto the mattress.

* * *

Ryou was stepping out of the shower when he hear a thud on his door. It wasn't a knock, it was more like someone had flung a sack of potatoes against Ryou's door and ran away. He wrapped a towel around his waist and went to investigate.

When Ryou pulled the door open, a body fell on top of him, sending them both crashing to the floor. Ryou yelped in surprise as he fell, and again when he saw who the body belonged to.

The spirit, rather the thief because he definitely wasn't a spirit any longer, lay slumped on top of Ryou's chest. His platinum hair hid most his face, but Ryou noticed the scar that he'd once lovingly carved into a Monster World figurine. Ryou reached out and brushed the soft, soft hair away from the thief's face.

His silver lashes fluttered as he struggled to open his eyes, thick, plush lips parted as he moaned into consciousness. "Where . . . am I?"

"In my arms," Ryou sighed. It was a little cheesy, but he wouldn't apologize for it, not ever.

The thief blinked a few more times and then looked at Ryou. "You? This isn't the Tribunal? How did I get . . ." he grabbed his head, visibly disoriented.

"You've been gone for years. Is that where you were? Arguing with the gods?"

"Well, they're all goat-fucking bastards, of course I was screaming at them." He tried to pushed himself up, but only managed to collapse back to the floor.

Ryou stood up, fixing the towel around his waist and closing the front door. Next he held out a hand to his prodigal thief and helped him to his feet. "Hungry?"

"Confused" he muttered as he stood.

"Hungry?"

He shook his head no, sitting on Ryou's coffee table and looking around. "Gimme a minute . . . "

Ryou smiled, shivering a little because of his hair dripping water down his skin. He went into the bathroom for a second towel for his hair, giving the thief time to adjust to being flung back into a physical body. When he went back to the living room, dressed in boxers, he saw the thief looking at photos on the walls.

"I can't believe you still hang out with those losers." He frowned at a picture of Jounouchi, Yugi, and Ryou.

Ryou remembered that picture. It'd been a week after their first time together. Yugi and Jounouchi had started dating, but Ryou occasionally enjoyed  _hanging out_  with them from time to time. He chuckled, it was hard not to tease the thief about it, but he figured that conversation was for a later time.

The thief noticed a different picture on the wall. "Why the fuck is Marik standing there with his arm slung around Seto fucking Kaiba?"

"Well, honestly, he was doing it to piss Seto off," Ryou answered, combing his hair with his fingers. "But they're also sleeping together, if that's what you're worried about."

"You have got to be kidding me," he growled. "How the fuck did that happen?"

Ryou shrugged. "Well, they were getting jealous every time I spoke with one or the other, so I refused to have sex with either one unless it was all three of us together. I meant for it to be temporary, but it became a habit that no one really wanted to stop."

"You . . ." the thief's eyes grew unfocused again, but Ryou was sure it wasn't from resurrecting, he remembered the sort of imagination the thief had. "All three of you?"

"Yes." Ryou smiled. "All three of us at once." He took a few steps towards the thief. "Remember when we use to imagine what it'd be like with Marik?" Ryou stopped a breath away from the thief leaning close to his ear. "We had no idea. He's much stronger now that he's older, and longer and thicker, than we ever fantasized - just as bossy, though. We got that part right. And Seto's surprisingly sweet. You hit his prostate enough times and he'll sing poetry in bed." Ryou pulled back to see the effect of his words, approving of the way the thief's eyes rounded and how his jaw hung slack. "And I know for a fact that Marik is going to be happy to see that you're back. Would you like me to call them up?"

His face flushed. Ryou never imagined that such a deep copper shade could glow such a healthy, wanton pink color. He didn't speak, like a crashed videogame that needed to be reset.

Ryou skimmed his thumb across the thief's pink cheek. "You're blushing, are you nervous? Because if you want some practice with your new body before I call Marik I'd be happy to help."

The thief growled, grabbing Ryou by the hair and pulling him close until their bare chests pressed together. "Nervous? Do you think I don't know how to already make you scream?"

Ryou sighed as the thief started biting into his throat. He knew that the thief would turn Ryou's pale throat more blue and purple than the Shadow Realm, but it wasn't every day that a lover returned from the dead to fall into one's arms, and Ryou had plenty of sweaters.

They stumbled to the bedroom. Ryou's towel fell halfway down the hallway. The thief's shenti dropped just outside Ryou's bedroom door. He pushed Ryou down on the bed and straddled over Ryou's hips. It reminded Ryou of his first time with Marik, and then he thought of Seto, Yugi, Jounouchi, and even the thief when he was dark spirit in the Ring and looked like a twisted reflection of Ryou.

"What's that smirk for?" The thief asked, taking Ryou's bottle of lube on his nightstand and prepping himself.

Ryou watched the thief, wincing at the width of his own fingers and he pushed them into his brand new body. "Nothing . . . it's just i'm really starting to like being everyone's first gay experience."

The thief snorted. "But don't forget - I was your first time, too."

Ryou's humorous smirk turned into a tender smile. "Yeah . . . and I've missed you." He pulled the thief down, kissing him.

"Funny way of showing it." The thief snickered, going back to Ryou's throat.

"Hey." Ryou tilted his head back, encouraging the thief to bit and suck where he wanted. "I was . . . just . . . getting enough players -  _ah_ \- for a good game."

"A good game of  _what_?" he hissed as he lowered his ass down on Ryou's swollen cock.

Ryou moaned, unable to banter anymore. The thief lifted and lowered his brown ass up and down. Ryou tilted his head up so that he could watch his tall, white shaft disappear into the thief's body.

"You're . . . sexy as fuck in this body."

The trademark smirk lit up the thief's face. His belly rolled, muscles taut and glistening. The light caught in the thief's hair, making it shimmer. At first Ryou laid back and enjoyed the show that the thief put on for him, but when he felt the pressure build in his lower body, he reached out, grabbing the thief's cock and moving his fist up and down.

"I don't know . . . you might be a little thicker than Marik," Ryou teased, trying to distract himself a little in order to keep himself from coming too soon.

"Am I now? Make sure you say that next time you see him."

Ryou smiled, thinking about where  _that_  particular argument would lead and approving. He noticed the thief biting his lower lip, his hips circled faster. Ryou matched his strokes to Bakura's bucking hips, keeping their rhythms in time with each other.

The thief started to moan, bangs hiding his closed eyes as his pace started to derail. He leaned closer, relying more on Ryou's strokes than his own rocking. He shivered, and cum splashed on Ryou's stomach.

Ryou flipped them, taking a second to dry his belly with tissue before laying with their bellies pressed together. He entered the thief a second time, angling upward and making the thief scream. Ryou pressed their foreheads together as he climaxed, lungs burning for breath and heart jackhammering in his ribcage.

Ryou wrapped his arms around the thief's neck, emotional as the realization that he was truly back crashed into Ryou's head. He felt the thief's fingers twine into his hair.

"Is it that surprising?" The thief asked, teasing Ryou.

"Suppose not." A little laugh escaped Ryou as a thought entered his mind. "There's something I always wanted to ask you."

"What is it?"

"What the fuck is your name?"

 


	28. Yamishipping (with a side of hikarishipping)

*****Prompt from Slinking Fox: a hikarishipping/ yamishipping combo where Ryou is in the hospital and Marik likes to where dresses*****

* * *

Marik's leather mini-skirt hiked up almost to his waist, but neither he nor Bakura paid it any as they raced down the road in Marik's motorcycle. Bakura jumped off the bike in the parking lot and sprinted into the hospital. The corridors were a blur as he searched for the correct room number. As soon as he burst through the door, two pairs of arms grabbed him- Kek and Atem's.

"Let me go you fuckers!" Bakura lunged forward, but he only pressed an inch further.

"Bakura, calm down. He's okay," Kek said.

"Okay? You dumb shit, he's in a hospital bed!"

"What?" Ryou laughed. Bandages snaked around his chest, but he didn't seemed bothered by them. "Are you jealous that someone else stabbed me for a change?"

Bakura growled, slumping in Atem's and Kek's arms.

"Ryou, that's mean," Yugi said.

"It's his right," Bakura muttered. Once he calmed down, Atem and Kek released him and Bakura sat in the chair closest to Ryou.

Marik appeared a minute later. He sat on Bakura's lap and asked, "What happened?"

Ryou frowned at the memory. "I saw an old lady getting mugged so I ran up and punched the guy. He went down but he had a partner who stabbed me before running off. I got the purse, though, and both guys were later arrested, so I'm counting it as a win."

"You should count yourself an idiot," Bakura grumbled from behind Marik.

They stayed until night fall and then the others went home- except Bakura. Bakura refused to leave Ryou's side. Three days later Yugi wrapped his arms around Bakura's neck and rested his head on Bakura's shoulder. "Bakura,you need a nap and a shower."

"Soon as he's released."

"Bakura there are five of us here to look after Ryou. You don't have to do this on your own."

"Go fuck yourself, Yugi."

Yugi stood up. "Go home or I'll have Kek carry you home."

"Go. Fuck. Yourself."

"Okay. Carried it is." Yugi marched out of the room.

Ryou sighed. "Bakura, I love you, and I understand that why you're keeping guard- I understand that beneath your tough act you're terrified that you'll lose your family again, but you heard the doctors. I'm fine. I'll go home tomorrow."

Bakura started at Ryou, silent.

Ryou gave him a tired smile. "Please go home. You're driving me crazy."

Bakura sighed. "I know Yugi and Marik make for better nurses."

Ryou's smile softened. "It's cute watching you try, though."

"I guess I should at least take a shower."

"And take a nap."

Bakura stood up, leaning over the bed. "You ever do anything stupid like this again, I will fucking bury you."

Ryou reached up and touched Bakura's cheek. "I love you too, Bakura."

As he walked towards the door, Kek and Atem entered.

"I'm going," Bakura snapped before they could speak.

Atem grinned. "I'm still under orders to take care of you for a night."

Bakura raised a white eyebrow. "Yeah?"

Atem gestured to Kek. "Both of us."

"Why not Marik?" Bakura asked.

Kek grinned. "He and Yugi are going to take care of Ryou instead."

"Well I guess I have no choice." He winked at Ryou. "Enjoy your nurses."

* * *

Marik walked through the door shortly after Bakura left. Ryou narrowed his eyes at Marik. "That handbag doesn't match that dress at all. What are you up to?"

Marik answered with a vicious grin. "This was my biggest hand bag, and I needed to smuggle a lot of stuff in."

"Like what?" Ryou asked.

"Like these." He pulled out a box with the brand name of Ryou's favorite bakery and handed it to Ryou.

Ryou closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of pastries before opening the box and admiring the dozen cream puffs with in. "Oh Marik, I love you so much right now. This hospital food has been killing me."

He reached out to the one but Yugi stopped him, shifting over to sit on the bed with Ryou. "What kind of nurses would we be if we let you feed yourself, Ryou?"

Ryou blushed a little, turning his head. "You don't have to do that, Yugi. You guys are as bad as Bakura."

Marik and Yugi laughed at that. Yugi grabbed a cream puff and held it up for Ryou to take a bite out of. While he was distracted, Marik slipped the clip for his heart monitor off of his finger and then turned off the machine.

Ryou glanced over at the dark monitor. "Marik, you're going to make the nurses bust in here if you mess with the equipment."

Marik smirked. "Not if I've already bribed them to stay out of here for a few hours."

"You did not."

Marik raised an eyebrow. Yugi chuckled a little. "Considered it some alternative medicine." He gave Ryou another cream puff to end the argument.

After a third one, Yugi set the box to the side. He cupped Ryou's face in both his hands, kissing him before pulling away. "We know just the thing to help you relax so you can recover faster."

"A-are you sure this is a good idea?" Ryou flushed.

He _liked_ the idea . . . oh so much. He'd been laid up in the hospital for days and he missed his house full of random boyfriends and friends with benefits, but they were in a _hospital_. Marik crawled onto the bed with Ryou, lifting up the lavender skirt of the dress he'd worn that day so he could straddle Ryou with his bronzed legs without tugging at the fabric.

"Relax, Ryou. The staff is bribed, the door is locked, and Yugi's making sure Bakura is being taken care of- stop worrying."

Ryou nodded. Distracted by the way Marik and Yugi stared at him, Ryou forgot all about his injury.

* * *

Wet, white hair slapped Atem's face as Bakura intentionally flipped his hair from one shoulder to the other. All Atem tried to do with hand Bakura a towel, but he should have known better than to get too close. Yugi had given Atem very specific orders to be nice to Bakura - it seemed like their entire group always told Atem to be nice to Bakura, but Atem couldn't see _why_ he should. No one ever told Bakura to be nice to Atem.

Once Yugi tried to explain that it was because Bakura was more sensitive that he seemed on the outside, but Atem couldn't see it. The former dark spirit was hardly human. Even Kek had adjusted to life better than Bakura, and their shaky truce teetered on a mutual understanding that they had to share the same toys or otherwise neither of them would get to play. As far as Atem was concerned, there was no need to be nice as long as they didn't openly argue.

Bakura smacked Atem with another lash of wet hair. "Oh, so sorry, did that hit you?" Bakura smirked.

Gods Atem wanted to punch him- right into his smirking mouth. "You can't bait me today, Bakura. My mission was to see you bathed, fed, and put to bed, and I'm going to do it no matter how difficult you are."

Bakura sneered, leaning close. "Yes. Yugi snaps, and you jump."

Atem smiled. "Kinda like you and Marik, huh?"

Bakura barked laughter at Atem's rebuttal. Then he did something expected. He grabbed Atem by the hair and bit his neck, _hard_. It hurt, Atem muffled a pained sound, wincing and trying to rid out whatever sadistic urge Bakura was acting out, but Bakura didn't let go. He just stood there, yanking at Atem's hair, sinking his teeth into the side of Atem's neck. Normally Atem would have pushed Bakura away and yell at him, but for some reason he thought about that evening with Yugi, and Yugi giving Atem a sad, bitter-sweet smile as he told Atem that Bakura was more sensitive that he seemed on the outside.

So, just to try it, instead of pushing Bakura away, Atem drew him closer. Instead of screaming at Bakura, he reached up and started combing his fingers through Bakura's tangled, showered hair.

Bakura started to tremble.

Atem pulled him closer, keeping one hand in Bakura's hand, and using the other to trace the sharp curves of bone jutting from Bakura's shoulder blades. Bakura's teeth stayed clamped down on Atem's skin, but they loosened until the bite no longer hurt.

Atem turned his head. He kissed Bakura's head, moving his lips as close to Bakura's forehead as he could. Bakura straightened himself up, growling a warning against Atem's lips. "Stop it."

He bit Atem's bottom lip, tugging with his teeth.

Again it hurt, but Atem was learning the rules to the game at this point. He didn't whimper or try to hurt Bakura back, instead he held Bakura's cheeks and turned the bite into an awkward kiss. Bakura leaned into the kiss turning it into something deep, lingering, and desperate. A strange ache filled Atem's chest, and maybe (he admitted to himself) he'd been wrong when he'd thought there'd never been a need to be nicer.

"Ryou's fine. He'll be out of the hospital in a day or two," Atem whispered when they pulled apart.

Bakura clenched his teeth, slamming Atem against the wall and wrapping his hands around Atem's throat. "I never asked for your fucking opinion."

Atem grabbed the back of Bakura's head and pulled him in for another kiss. His hands slid down from Atem's throat and dug into his shoulders.

The door opened and Kek peeked inside. "Well that explains why it was so quiet. I thought maybe you both killed each other."

"Like he could hurt me." Bakura snorted.

Kek rolled his eyes, and walked up to Bakura. "You know, all you ever do is talk shit."

Atem smirked. "Try kissing him. It worked well a moment ago."

"Fuck you, Pharaoh."

Atem whispered in Bakura's ear, "Is that a request?"

Bakura slapped him and Atem responded with another kiss, only this time he shoved his tongue into Bakura's mouth.

Bakura pulled away and spat on the floor. "Make this quick. I have shit to do."

"Yeah, you're so busy." Kek lifted Bakura up, slung him over his shoulder, and carried him to the closest bedroom.

"Yeah, real fucking macho, I'm so damn impressed." Bakura rolled his eyes as Kek threw him on the mattress.

They ended up in Marik's room, it was one of the few that had a proper bed. Kek prepped Bakura; Bakura growled threats. Atem leaned against the bedpost and watched with amusement.

"We've never done this split before," Bakura said.

"I call top!" Kek shouted.

"Middle!" Atem laughed when he saw the look on Bakura's face.

"What the fuck? It's not like calling shotgun."

"Says the loser."

Bakura scowled at Atem. "Wanna roll dice? If I win - we switch spots."

Kek smirked. "I think we should leave it as is."

"Why do you even care, asshole? You get to top either way."

"Because, Bakura," Kek purred, "Why would I want to fuck a petty thief when I could fuck a king?"

"I was the King of Thieves!"

"He was very fierce back then," Atem said it out loud, though it was more of a thought than an addition to the conversation.

Bakura frowned, and Kek pulled away from Bakura, giving Atem a side glance as he smirked. "Come here."

Atem sat on the bed, and Kek slammed him into the mattress. He shoved his face between Atem's legs and started to lick Atem's asshole. Atem threw his head back and cried out.

"Flip him over," Bakura said.

Kek obliged, returning to his rim job. Bakura lifted himself to his knees in front of Atem, grabbing Atem's hair and shoving his cock down Atem's throat.

Atem relaxed his jaw. He figured Bakura deserved a blow job since he was going to let Atem fuck him. He licked Bakura until his white cock gleamed with spit, and then allowed his head to hit the back of Atem's throat.

Kek slipped inside, and Atem moaned. He got into the moment more than he should have. Far too soon, Kek was growling as he came.

He pulled out and lay on the mattress to recover, but Bakura's fingers twitched in Atem's hair.

"Don't . . . stop . . . you can fuck me, just don't . . . St-ahh."

In a haze of arousal, Atem wiggled two fingers up Bakura's ass. When he found Bakura's prostate, he dragged his fingers across and downward, repeating the movement with slow, steady curls of his fingers.

Bakura made a delirious, enraptured sound, and it continued until Atem was swallowing Bakura's hot spunk. Bakura dropped down to the mattress.

Kek started to laugh at them. "I'm getting pizza now. Don't fall in love while I'm away- that'd be really weird."

"Fuck you," Bakura whispered. It wasn't loud enough for Kek to hear, but Bakura didn't seem to mind. He had a dreamy look in his eyes that Atem had never seen before.

"Do you need a nap?" Atem asked, suddenly too nervous to go through with it now that Kek was gone.

Bakura grinned, as if sensing Atem's hesitation. He opened his legs and gestured for Atem to crawl closer.

Atem obeyed. Hovering over Bakura and allowing Bakura to guide Atem's cock inside of him. Atem gasped when Bakura squeezed his pelvic floor muscles in time to Atem's thrust.

Atem moved slow. He had to, it was too good to speed through.

"Kek's an idiot." Atem moaned, closing his eyes.

Bakura chuckled. "I think he was intentionally doing you a favor."

It was probably true. Kek had slept with Bakura before,but Atem couldn't give it much thought. He was climbing, climbing fast, then coming, his toes curling.

Afterward he lay in a heap on the bed. Bakura sighed, and then sat up.

"You're s'posed to take a nap," Atem murmured.

"There really is something that I have to do."

"Oh . . ." Atem muttered. "W-want some help?" For some reason, Atem didn't want to be alone at that moment.

Bakura reached out his hand. Atem flinched, expecting his hair to get tugged again, but Bakura merely ran his fingers through the tri colored stands. "Sure. Whatever. Grab some pizza for us and meet me in Ryou's room. Bonus points if you con Kek into joining- he probably will if he knows it's for Ryou."

Atem did what Bakura asked, wondering what he had planned. In Ryou's room, Atem saw Bakura laying foam hills on top of Ryou's RPG table.

Bakura looked up, sheepish. "You know how much he loves this dumb game. I figured." Bakura shrugged. "We could set up a campaign to play when he gets home. All six of us."


	29. Gemshipping/ Soul Room Lemon, TKB!Bottom

*****curiousghost requested gemshipping with TKB as bottom, hell yeah I'll write some gemshipping with TKB bottoming.*****

* * *

Ryou marched down the dark hallway. He was aware that the place surrounding him was a representation of his mind; however that did nothing to diminish the crumbling texture of stone beneath his fingertips, the smell of dust filling his nose, nor the fear causing the fine hairs on his neck to stand on end. A creature stood before him, a twisted mirror image of himself. It blocked his path.

Ryou scowled. "Go away. You're not really me- or him."

A smirk cut into the doppelganger's white face. "But I am him."

Ryou's hands balled into fists. "You're not the one who shielded me from Slifer."

The other snorted, crossing its arms over a chest that looked like Ryou's chest wearing a shirt that looked like Ryou's shirt. "No. I wanted him to win."

Ryou walked forward, shoving the creature to the side. "Get out of my way and don't stop me."

The doppelganger's red eyes widened as he hit the wall. He glared at Ryou, hating him, but Ryou ignored him. As long as Ryou had purpose, as long as he had a goal, the darker presence in the Ring couldn't harm him.

He finished walking down the dark corridor until he ended a dark chamber. Ryou rubbed his arms and shivered from the cold that seemed to pour from the stones and from the shadows. He saw the dim hope of torchlight hiding further back and followed the light. There, shackled to the wall was the one he'd been searching for.

Ryou expected him to look like the doppelganger, to look like Ryou himself, but here in his soul room the thief was the color of brown bread, stocky but shorter, and more scarred than even Ryou. Ryou knelt down to where the thief sat and traced his white thumb down the angry pink scar decorating the thief's cheek.

The thief jerked, as if woken. He glared at Ryou. "What are you doing here?"

"I was lonely. I came to visit."

"You're not supposed to be here."

A dry smile stretched across Ryou's face. "I could say the same to you when you control my body."

The thief's eyes flicked to the darkness behind Ryou. "Go away."

"No."

"How did you get past Necrophades?"

"I shoved him out of the way."

"Shoved him? You can't just shove a dark god out of the way!"

"Why not? That's what I did. I don't care if he's a god." Ryou reached up and broke the shackles binding the thief.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I don't like seeing you like this."

Once free, the thief grabbed Ryou's shoulders and drew their faces close. "I don't want you here. Go."

"I'm not leaving without you."

A cruel, bitter laugh bounced along the near-frozen stones. "What is this? Do you think you're some noble rescuing the imprisoned wretch? I'm not a captive- I chose to be here. You can't rescue me from this. It's what I want."

Ryou stared at the thief's chafed wrists. He brought one up to his lips and kissed it. "I know."

"Then go." The thief pulled his wrist away.

"No. If you won't leave with me . . . I'll stay here with you."

"I don't want you," the thief snarled.

Ryou traced the scar on the thief's cheek again, kissing it. "Then why did you save me?"

A snort echoed through the cold air. "I didn't want the Pharaoh to damage my property."

Ryou laughed, soft and musical. "Liar. You know he wouldn't have hurt me."

The thief's voice was low, almost a threat. "Don't put your faith in _him_. You have no idea was sort of damage the pharaohs will do in order to put themselves ahead."

"I know," Ryou whispered, ghosting his fingertips along the thief's dark collarbone. "I've seen the memories . . . the fire."

The thief slapped Ryou's hand away. "I need your pity less than I need to be rescued."

"It's not pity." Ryou leaned forward and began to kiss the thief's neck.

He growled, but instead of pushing away he tilted his head. Ryou slipped the crimson robe off of the thief's shoulders and began the massage the firm muscles beneath the cinnamon-brown skin.

"You're a-" the thief sighed as Ryou began to suck, "-stupid, little fool."

Ryou netted his fingers into the thief's silvery hair, bringing their faces close. "Well you're cruel and bitter and . . . sad." Ryou's expression crumpled. "You're so sad. You hide behind laughter, but I've felt your sadness since I first put on the Ring." Ryou smashed their mouths together. Thier kisses were sloppy and trembling. "Please," Ryou begged. "Please let me comfort you."

"You can't."

Ryou went back to the thief's throat. "Then let me suffer with you."

Ryou grabbed the thief's wrists again. He moved to the thief's chest and shoulders, kissing each tiny criss-crossed star in reach of his lips. The thief grabbed Ryou's left hand and kissed his palm, then he went to the five scars on Ryou's chest.

"They're my fault," the thief whispered.

"Yes they are," Ryou said, neither excused nor condemning the thief's actions.

The last place the thief kissed was the area around the bandage on Ryou's arm. "I'd do it over again."

"Yeah. I know."

"So are you sure this is what you want?"

Ryou nodded, easing the thief down to the floor and staring directly into his opal-colored eyes. "This is what I want."

Braziers appeared, filling the room with yellow and orange light while staving off the chill. A fur blanket appeared below them. It was soft, but not half as soft as the thief's hair. Their hands struggled to free Ryou from his clothing, although a simple tug removed the shenti away from the thief's waist.

Ryou's tongue drew along every contour of muscle. Everything was shaved and sleek against Ryou's tongue. He tried to tease the thief, licking his thighs and belly, but the long thick cock rising from between the thief's legs was too tempting to leave be, so Ryou opened his mouth wide, held the thief's shaft, and ran his tongue against the fat head of the thief's cock. The skin was smooth against his tongue, and Ryou's mouth watered in anticipation. He allowed his saliva to cover the thief's erection until it was slick enough for Ryou to wrap his lips around and slide down.

The thief squirmed, making rusty, needy sounds competing with his breaths. Ryou kept his lips snug around the thief's cock, sliding up and down until the thief throbbed on the verge of release, then Ryou pulled away.

"No, don't stop," the thief growled, hiking his hips in the air in search of the missing warmth of Ryou's mouth.

Ryou licked his friction-burned lips. He imagined a bottle of lube and saturated the thief's asshole. The thief moaned as Ryou's fingers began to stretch him.

With grit teeth, the thief said, "Bastard, you better . . . make me finish . . ."

"I will . . . but not yet." Ryou smiled. He lowered his mouth back to the thief's cock while continuing to prep him.

The thief was louder the second time, desperate, on the verge of orgasmic ecstasy. Ryou felt the thief throb in his mouth and barely pulled away in time.

"Bastard!" The thief wailed when Ryou denied him orgasim for a second time. "Dirty bastard!"

"You wouldn't be happy if I were nice." Ryou chuckled as he eased into Bakura.

As soon as he had a good angle, he slammed his hips forward, making the thief's back arch and his voice echo into the air. Ryou repeated the action, deep, sudden, intense, and the thief's chest stretched taut as his muscles contracted.

Ryou lifted one of the thief's brown legs up over Ryou's white shoulder, slamming even deeper into the thief's tight body. He felt his own cock throb at the pinnacle of each thrust, hyper-aroused by the long foreplay. " _Ah_!" He screamed.

He slid in again, slow this time, and held, drawing a deep-throated groan from the thief. Ryou gasped for breath, forcing his own approaching climax to ease back. When he felt in control again, he started rocking faster into the thief's body. The thief's cock bobbed as their bodies bounced together. His head was red-violet and dripping.

"Please, Ryou," he begged, pride gone, distancing mechanisms such as calling Ryou _host_ also gone, there was only need left within the thief, not even vengeance or Zorc- not in that moment- only need.

Ryou reached out, grabbing the thief's dick and squeezing. He groaned again, face as crimson as his robe, hair a silvery-white mess around his face. His fingers gripped the furs below and he tried to press into both Ryou's hand and his thrusts at the same time, writhing from want of release. Ryou pulled down each time he thrusted in until the thief finished with an explosion of white.

Ryou's fingers uncurled from the thief's shaft and held his thigh in order to gain more speed. Jolt, after jolt, after jolt of sweet, hot pressure squeezed Ryou's cock with each thrust until he, too, was pouring out and groaning with orgasm.

Ryou rolled to the side, pulling the thief onto his sweaty chest. They both closed their eyes, ready to sleep off the afterglow when a voice laughed at them from the shadows. "Well, that was certainly entertaining to watch."

They both jerked to a seated position. Ryou half expected Zorc to step forward, but it was Marik who appeared to them in the firelight. Ryou watched Marik bathed in flames, it seemed like an ill omen, but Ryou couldn't explain why.

"Ishtar, you sick fuck. You stood there and watched the entire time?" the thief asked.

Marik smirked. "You should be thanking me. The Ring fell off of your host's body when Slifer attacked. If I hadn't brought it back, neither you nor your host would have have had this sweet little moment together." He snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow. "Or should I even use the term host? I recall you screaming out his name, so I suppose it's Ryou now."

Instead of shying away, Ryou gave Marik a friendly smile. "You know, if you wanted to watch, you could have said so. We would have given you a chair."

"A chair would be nice," Marik said without missing a beat. One appeared and Marik sat down, crossing his legs.

Ryou combed sweat-stuck strands of hair away from his forehead. "Next time, you can even ask to join- I wouldn't mind sharing."

An amused grin highlighted Marik's features. "Tempting, but for now I have more pressing issues on my mind."

The thief laughed. "So you lost your duel as well?"

"I lost my body," Marik said.

"How?" the thief asked, as if he didn't really believe the tomb-keeper.

Marik sighed. "It's a long story."

The thief smirk, patting the fur between himself and Ryou. "Sit down here. Tell us all about it. Time moves slowly in one's soul room."

* * *

*****Ooops, it became gravityshipping, lol*****


	30. Going Home/ (Geminshipping, complete one-shot)

***** So, I effed up, that last Gem fic, was supposed to be Gemin, my bad. Here is the correct paring, but I've never written or read Yami Bakura x TKB before, so I didn't really know what I was doing, and this turned into an 8k one shot. Oooops, lol.*****

* * *

The sand at his feet had no one color. It was like clear glass crushed to a coarse powder. It refracted the light, giving the illusion of silver-white one moment, soft pink the next. For an instant everything flashed a specific shade of bright lavender, and the dark spirit had to close his eyes lest the memories of his failures overwhelm him.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw himself. His old self, that scrappy, cocky thief that he hadn't been for three thousand years but who had somehow managed to survive in the Ring. It was then that the spirit realized that fragmenting his soul so many times with the powers of the Ring had some odd consequences- such as his spirit now being cut in half- red and black like a cheap feng shui decoration hanging in the window of a shop.

The thief walked up to him, sizing him up. The spirit noticed that the thief was shorter. That bothered him. He remembered himself as being formidable, but here he stood, shorter than his gentle, pale host. What other memories grew crooked in the cramped, dark spaces of the Ring?

"I found Diabound. When a _ba_ and _ka_ merge they should form an _akh_ , but I'm still not complete."

"What a shame." The dark spirit snorted, turning to leave. He wasn't there to chat with himself. He had a _reason_ , a goal, the same as always- vengeance. He wanted to tear down the paradise the pharaohs used as their eternal sanctuary. Why hadn't he seen it before? Why should he destroy a pharaoh when he could ruin them all and the gods with them?

The thief pushed the spirit's black, leather-clad shoulder. "Hey asshole, it's your fault. You're the reason my soul feels empty."

"Then eat me. See if that works."

"I want you gone!" The thief grabbed the collar of the spirit's jacket, pulling the spirit down so they stood face to face. "I can't move on as long as you hold a grudge, so you need to let it go already!"

The dark spirit twisted his fingers into the tangled, silver-white hair of the thief, drawing their faces closer still. "Let it go? Let it go? What's _wrong_ with you? Have you forgotten? Have you forgotten choking on ash? Having to walk out into the desert? Feet bleeding? Throat burning? Almost dying? Living only for vengeance? Finding the next town and stealing what you needed to survive? Always alone! Always exhausted! Always hearing them scream!"

The thief's face twitched, and the spirit saw that he'd forgotten _nothing_. "They're not screaming now."

"No." The spirit shoved the thief and they both backed away. "That doesn't mean we lie down like dogs and beg for whatever bones the pharaohs throw to us in the afterlife!"

The thief dropped to his knees, the sands around him golden and bronzed. He tossed back his head and laughed, and then he snapped his head back into place. His hair covered the side of his face with a scar. "So what? You're going to fight the gods directly now? Now that you don't even have Zorc? Don't you see, you _fucking_ _idiot_ \- he was playing you! Playing us! Using us as a pawn to get what he wanted and now he's gone!" The thief dropped down to the sand, laying on his side, red cloak pooling around him. "I'm tired. We're tired. Don't pretend like you're not."

He was tired, exhausted, but he had been for ages. It didn't matter, as long as he hated, he'd go on. "So you've given up? Pathetic. I can't remember ever being as weak and pathetic as you."

"You can't remember our mother's name, either," the thief said.

The spirit clenched his teeth, trying to pretend that the statement didn't bother him, that it didn't infuriate him.

"Tch." The thief rolled his eyes, knowing better. "It was Kemsē."

"If you remember her- avenge her."

"You godsdamned fool. She'd weep if she saw us like this, not ask for vengeance."

"Are you sure about that? She screamed for it enough with the others."

The thief pushed himself up to his feet. "The Items are gone and so are the screams. I've fucking told you already- let it go!"

"You disgust me," the dark spirit whispered with a low growl. "Stay away from me."

He left the thief there, in the beautiful prism sands of the Duat. He had to get through the desert before he could challenge the gods.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Away from the whiny bitch crying that he's tired."

The thief ran up beside him, marching next to him. "I'm not letting you out of my sight. As long as you're restless- I can't rest."

"Then you better help me destroy Ma'at's scales because that's the only thing that will put me at ease."

"Destroy Ma'at's- did the Shadows give you fucking brain damage? You can't do that!"

The dark spirit smirked. "Watch me."

"You'd destroy the balance of existence itself!"

"That's the point."

"That would include destroying all the spirits that finally got to rest after the Items were destroyed, in other words, our people."

The spirit stopped, glaring at the thief.

He frowned, rested a brown hand on the spirit's shoulder. "I know you're angry. It's my fucking anger that you're feeling, but it's over." He held the dark spirit's face and brought their foreheads together. "It's over," he whispered.

The spirit's breath hitched, the rage threatening to boil out of his mouth is burst of angry words and curses. "I can't . . . I can't do _nothing_."

"Then let's make a deal," the thief said.

A snort of laughter escaped the spirit's throat. "You should know better than to make a deal with me."

"You only have a little bit of the demon left in you." The thief chuckled, letting go of the dark spirit. "So I figured it can't end any worse than the last time I made a deal with _him._ "

"What's your stupid deal, then?"

"Travel with me through the Duat. I was hoping if I became an _akh_ then the gods would let me move on to Aaru so I could see our village."

"Pffft, you're a fool if you're trusting on the generosity of the gods for your passage to Aaru."

The thief grinned. "Know what? Maybe I am a fool. But I want to go home."

 _Home_. The word thrummed through the spirit like a chill ran through the body of a fever victim. _Home. Home._ Something burnt and ruined and broken and lost long, long ago. The spirit's mouth dropped. He blinked at the sand that shifted from gold to a shimmering blue-silver. "We don't _have_ a home."

"Wherever they are, is our home."

The spirit glanced up, staring at the thief. "They won't let us. There's no way the gods will let us waltz into heaven after all we've done."

The thief's grin grew sharp, a close mockery of the spirit's own grin. "That's where our deal comes into play."

The dark spirit raised an eyebrow. " _Now_ you have my attention."

"Like I said, let's travel together. We can make it on our own." He shrugged. "But it'll be a lot easier together. And then . . ."

"Then?"

The thief stared at the sky above them. Similar to the sand, it wasn't exactly one color. It changed, gradually- pale and translucent one moment, deep and opaque the next. "If they won't _let_ us see our family - we'll fight our way through."

The spirit laughed, feeling euphoric, manic. "You better be prepared to fight. The gods _loathe_ us."

The thief nodded, looking grave. "I am. I'm not naive. I remember the last time we tried to meet with a pharaoh."

The spirit tossed his hands in the air in a grand gesture. "Then let's go."

* * *

The Duat was home to grotesque and terrifying creatures. They were the souls of certain unlucky damned cursed to spend their afterlife wandering. However, neither thief nor spirit had any qualms with the damned, so they avoided the boiling rivers and caves where the creatures tended to lurk, and kept to the solitude of the open desert. The thief had a knack for finding a snack if they needed food or an oasis if they needed water.

They spent their nights near water if they could. There was more of a chance of being attacked, but they saw no one on their journey, as if their very presence kept the other fiends away. They rested beneath a fig tree, eating figs and staring at their camp fire.

"Only now can I look at the flames without tasting bile in the back of my throat," said the thief.

"It stopped bothering me a long time ago," said the dark spirit.

Silence irritated the air between them. The thief fidgeted with the stem of a fig, cutting into the top of the fruit with a broken thumbnail. "Do you remember swimming in the river with our cousins?"

"No," the dark spirit said.

"Do you remember when mother put dates in the bread to make it sweet? She knew we loved that."

"And you know that I can't remember any of this nonsense."

"Not even when I talk about it? Does it bring back nothing? What about that older boy that won all the wrestling matches?" The thief chuckled at the memory. "We used to stare at him, thinking we wanted to be strong like that, but looking back on it now, I think we just wanted him to beat us in wrestling."

A strange current ran through the spirit. He _wanted_ to remember. He wanted to see the face of the boy who'd been their childhood crush, but he couldn't. The memories weren't there, eaten up by Zorc long ago. He supposed the only surprising thing was that this echo of his former self still existed, and remembered.

"Can't you remember? We swore we'd never forget those things. _Those_ were the real reasons we wanted revenge, because that's what was stolen from us."

"I can't remember." The spirit shook his head. "And I don't care. I can remember what's important. I remember the spear plunging into our father's chest. I remember blood pouring out of his mouth."

"What good is that if you don't remember him teaching us how to summon Diabound and fish in river? He taught us how to build traps for the tombs too, and that's why we were so good at disarming traps when we robbed those tombs."

"What does it matter if I remember all that or not?"

The thief started at his fig, peeling the skin away from the flesh. "I don't like the idea of being so fucking broken that half of me can't even remember my own life."

The spirit's lip curled back in a snarl. "Don't sit there and talk like I'm the weak link. _You're_ the one that's forgotten everything we survived for. _You're_ the broken one!"

"Yes. I'm broken. You're proof of that."

The spirit grabbed his knees, squeezing them in an attempt to control his rage, but his voice cut the air. "Yeah, what about your own name? Do you remember that, _iksu_?"

 _Iksu_ , thief, is what everyone always called him. He'd been the one to add the royal title of _king_ to the nomenclature. Looking back, the title and red cloak came across as a child vying for the attention he never got growing up- because everyone who'd ever loved him died at the hands of royal soldiers. Again, the spirit was disgusted of who he used to be. A pathetic, short, nobody thief secretly crying out for affection, or at least attention.

And here the bastard sat, staring at the dark spirit as if _he_ was the one that needed pity. "You really don't remember? Is that why you stole our host's name? Because you can't remember?" He clenched his fist, growling. "I should have never worn the Ring."

"Idiot. We needed the Ring's power to complete our plans."

"Our plans. Yeah, our plans. Fuck our plans. They never worked, and you don't even remember that we were called Bakari. Do you at least remember Tiy?"

The names _did_ stir something in the spirit. The air felt thin as he struggled to breathe. He remembered his mother calling for him, trying to find him in the chaos of fire and holding his baby sister, Tiy. He'd almost ran out to his mother from his hiding place, thinking she'd keep him safe, but then a soldier appeared from the smoke and screams and had used a bronze knife to cut his mother's throat.

"No, not that," Bakari said as if he could see the spirit's thoughts. "Don't you dare only remember them like that! They were more than their deaths, damn you!"

The spirit narrowed his eyes at Bakari. "And don't you dare forget them at that moment! That's when they were taken from us!"

"I know that! But . . . you damn fucking idiot." Bakari chunked his fig into the watering hole in front of them. "You're never going to get it. We might as well call it a day." He lay in the tall grass, curling up on his side.

The spirit glared at the thief's red cloak, hating him for being human, hating him for having a name, hating him for remembering a real family when all the spirit had were their corpses melting into gold.

The spirit didn't sleep. He'd never slept, not since the days when he was the thief before him, so he sat and stared at the red cloak and silver mess of hair with contempt. After several hours he heard the thief whimper from nightmares. The spirit grit his teeth, angry. He was supposed to inspire nightmares, not have them. He didn't even want his human counterpart having them, what kind of King of Thieves had nightmares like a child?

But after another soft cry the spirit stood up, walking around the thief's body to stare at his face. He crouched next to Bakari, watching him. The moonlight made the tear trails on Bakari's cheeks glimmer. The spirit reached out and brushed two finger tips along the thief's scar. Bakari flinched away, not used to being touched. The spirit remembered that much . . . what it was like . . . to never be touched- not even a friendly gesture or a greeting- because they had _no one_.

A strange urge swept through the spirit. He brushed his fingers down the thief's cheek. It wasn't a kind gesture; it was a selfish gesture. It was a self-indulgent gesture that the spirit gave to his past self, fulfilling some latent need pestering him for three-thousand years. He used his thumb to smudge the tears away from Bakari's cheek, and then tucked a lick of platinum hair behind his ear.

The thief's eyes opened, staring at the spirit without speaking. The color reminded the spirit of starlight. He never realized it when they were his own eyes and he was looking out from them. The dark spirit stared back, unapologetic for his actions.

When he was satisfied, his hand dropped away from the thief's face.

Bakari closed his eyes. "You should lie down. We have a lot of walking to do tomorrow."

"I don't sleep."

"Never told you to sleep."

The spirit didn't see the point, nonetheless, he lay flat on his back in the grass, staring at the sky above him. He watched the stars. He knew they were actually ascended spirits, and hated each one for it, for being good enough for ascension when they were bound to the shadows.

But his eyes had once been the color of starlight.

Not anymore, now they were sanguine like Zorcs - windows to his angry soul.

 _They were more than their deaths_ . . .

But who had they been, those ninety-nine ghosts that used to wail for the pharaoh's blood. He could not remember, although he spent the entire night trying.

They rose with Ra, filling their water skins, and stuffing every pocket with figs. They shared a frog for breakfast, cooked with heka-ignited flames. As they walked, the spirit grew tired of staring at the sand and sky. He found his gaze drifting towards Bakari, at least the red cloak was a solid, consistent color in a land that always shifted like a mirage.

"You dreamed of their deaths last night."

The thief glanced in the dark spirit's direction. "No. I dreamt of something else."

"Of the night you got that scar?"

Bakari grinned. "Nope. You're still wrong."

"When you died."

"Do you remember the festivals our village would have? The women made garlands. They danced for the men. Everyone drank extra beer. We couldn't afford wine, but there used to be beer- we stole enough gold to trade for the wheat."

"Why would you cry because of a festival?"

"You don't remember?"

"Stop asking. You know damn well that I don't remember your stupid, precious, happy childhood memories. I was born in the Ring, not the desert."

Bakari shook his head. "This wasn't a good memory. We wandered too far away and it was too dark to see, so we twisted our ankle in the dark. We screamed until mother found us and then she said that's what we get for being stupid. She still carried us home and used _heka_ to heal us despite the fact that she lectured us."

"Not _we_. I wasn't there."

"You're part of me. It's your past too. Shit, she was right . . . we are stupid."

"You cried because of a twisted ankle? You're weaker than I thought. Not even our host would have done that."

"We were four and a little lost."

"You should have been stronger."

"Why? So we could have killed all the guards? Saved our cousins? Are those thoughts part of what makes you up? Those were the thoughts of a six year old, _sheut_. Even with Diabound we could have only killed the soldiers, but there were still three royal magi there." The thief spun, fast, too fast. He held the spirit to his broad chest. "There's nothing we could have done. We were six. It wasn't because we were weak."

The spirit kneed his other half in the stomach. Bakari doubled over, holding his belly as the spirit walked away. "Don't touch me."

"You touched me last night," Bakari wheezed as he forced himself straight and tried to catch up with the spirit.

"That was different. I wanted-"

"You wanted comfort," Bakari said.

"No. It was just a whim."

"I know when you lie."

The dark spirit pulled a switchblade from his coat pocket. He held it below the thief's jaw. "Don't think you're anything more to me than just another host. Maybe I was you once, but I'm not _anything_ like you now."

Bakari smirked. "Weak and human? Don't be such a cliché, and put that fucking knife away. You know you won't cut me. I'm going to help you fight the gods, remember?"

"Tch, thought we were going to beg for forgiveness like good little dogs in an attempt for some sort of watered-down salvation?"

Bakari gestured with his eyes and the dark spirit removed the blade. Once his throat was free, he shrugged. "I'm going home. Peacefully . . . violently . . . I don't care anymore. I'm going home."

* * *

That night they couldn't find shelter. They had to settle for the lee of a sand dune, sitting pressed shoulder to shoulder for warmth. The spirit didn't really feel heat or cold. He wore his black leather jacket at night and when Ra burned down on them, but Bakari shivered now that it was night.

"Here." The spirit took off his jacket and tossed it at Bakari's face.

He turned to avoid it, letting it fall into his lap. "I'm fine."

"I don't feel the cold."

"So? Why do you care if I do or not?"

"I don't care, but like you said-" he took the jacket and wrapped it around Bakari's shoulders. "I'm using you to help me fight the gods. I can't let anything happen to you until then."

Bakari stared at the spirit, their eyes level because of the unequal distribution of the sand beneath them. "Like last time? Keep the pawn on the board until it isn't useful?"

"Yes."

Bakari narrowed his eyes, touching the spirit's cheek. "You're so white. Is this what the host looked like?"

"More or less."

Bakari's hand dropped. "I never got to see him, since I was trapped in the Ring. I could hear his thoughts, though. We talked a few times."

"I told you that was dangerous."

"Got us the diorama for our ultimate RPG, didn't it?"

"I suppose."

Bakari's head dropped down the the spirit's shoulder. "Besides . . . it was nice having someone to talk to, for once."

"Hmm, I should have guessed that it was his influence that's ruined you. Please don't say anything stupid such as you feeling affection towards him."

"Yeah? What about Marik? Feel any affection for him?"

The spirit flinched at Marik's name, but for some reason he didn't push the thief away. "Don't say his name. That was a failed plan."

"They'll both be in Aaru one day."

"Like Marik's going to Heaven. Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Maybe he'll surprise you."

The spirit chuckled, calmer than usual. "He often did . . . stupid idiot."

Bakari closed his eyes. "It's still a shame that you don't remember what sweet bread made from dates tastes like."

"Perhaps . . . too bad we really can't go home. Otherwise I could try some."

"We're definitely going home. I swear it."

He snorted, watching as the thief fall asleep on his shoulder. "Is that your Noble Oath?"

His lips twitched, almost a smile. "We should give you a name."

The spirit shrugged. "Just call me Bakura. I've stolen Ryou's appearance. Might as well keep the name with it."

* * *

Waking up was a strange, _wrong_ feeling. Bakura had never fallen asleep before, so that moment where consciousness switched from _off_ to _on_ startled him. Bakura's eyes jerked open. He felt warm and realized both his black coat and Bakari's red cloak wear wrapped over both his and Bakari's shoulders. His pale left arm pressed into the thief's brown right arm as they shared heat.

"Why are we like this?" Bakura asked, trying to shake the unfamiliar, sleepy feeling in his mind that seemed to be a side effect of waking up.

The thief's eyes opened. He scratched his head. "You were shivering."

"No." Bakura scowled. "I don't shiver. I don't feel cold."

"You don't fall asleep, either, but you were snoring last night."

The dark spirit pushed their make-shift blankets off of his shoulders. The air without them was cold; he couldn't deny it. "Why is this happening to me?"

"You gave yourself a name," Bakari said. "A _ren_ is a powerful thing." He stood up, wrapping himself up in his red robe. "Personally, I haven't felt this good since the day I put on the damn Ring. Maybe the key to me becoming an _ahk_ isn't having us merge. Maybe it'll work if you heal on your own."

" _Heal_." Bakura scoffed, throwing his jacket on. "There's no _healing me_. This is simply what I am."

"But don't you feel better now? Now that you have a name?"

Bakura looked at himself as if he could stare straight through and see a visual status report. He felt _odd_. "I don't like this. I don't want this. I take it back. I don't want a name. Ryou can keep his name. I don't-"

The thief grabbed him again, his head tucking into Bakura's shoulder as they embraced. "How about now? Do you feel better now?"

Bakura pulled away a bit, looking down at Bakari. He felt that strange, overwhelming urge again, to touch the thief's face. This time, Bakura used both hands, tracing Bakari's cheekbones, his chin, his lips, his scar. He grazed his finger across every little detail, all the while staring at eyes bright as starlight. "I will never forgive you for this."

Bakari grinned. "I know. You're still a part of me, afterall. Guess that makes me a narcissist, but I don't care."

Bakura growled and pulled away, furious with himself for succumbing to his strange, almost tender desires to touch his former self. "We need to get through this desert. I still want to see what the blood of a god tastes like on the edge of my knife."

The thief winked at him. "Not half as good as fresh baked bread."

They walked through endless dunes. Bakura couldn't help but think of bread. He remembered hungering for it as an orphaned child, and he remembered the bitter taste of eating it stale and stolen while alone in a dark alley, but he was trying to remember it like Bakari did. He strained and strained through the Zorc-created darkness that scarred his mind like the knife had scarred Marik's back.

But then something sparked in his mind; he stopped walking. "She sang? When she milled the grain."

Melancholy softened the thief's face as he nodded. "Yes. She loved to sing, especially when she worked, or at night when the stars shimmered. You remembered."

Bakura crammed his hands into his pocket. "It's more like a vague impression."

"It's something."

Bakura clenched his jaw. He loathed his awakening humanity, but at the same time he felt compelled to quicken it, allow it to grow. The same way a caterpillar had no choice but to spin silk and cocoon itself.

The third night they camped in another oasis. The pool had fish and there were both olives and figs, so they had plenty to eat.

"Remember father's tools?" Bakari asked after they ate and washed the desert from their bodies in the pool.

"A little, because sometimes we used them to break into tombs."

A proud grin brightened Bakari's face. "We loved to stare at them when we were little." He frowned, staring at the campfire. "When I was three, I wanted to be a tomb-builder just like father. . . I didn't know the villagers had to steal back then just to get grain. I thought building the resting places for the pharaohs was honorable - I can't believe how fucking stupid I was. I fucking hate myself when I think about it."

Bakura cupped his hands around Bakari's cheeks. The thief's wet hair tickled Bakura's hands as he guided Bakura's face up so they were staring at each other. As much as he loathed the thief for his memories, he didn't like seeing that loathing manifested in those star-lit eyes.

Bakura leaned forward, their cheeks ended up brushing together. Bakari's breath halted at the contact. Bakura turned so that the tip of his nose could trace up Bakari's cheekbone. The thief muttered something indistinguishable, but Bakura ignored it. Instead, he kept tracking up Bakari's scarred cheek until his nose was brushing damp, silvery hair away from the thief's ear. He outlined the shell of Bakari's ear, lips grazing the lobe.

Bakari tilted his head on reflex, and Bakura pressed into his neck. He held the thief's shoulders in place as he glided his nose and lips from Bakura's neck to his collarbone and then back up his throat. He felt Bakari relaxing in his grip, head lulling back and giving Bakura silent permission to his chest. Bakura planted his lips against Bakari's sternum. Bakura's fingers slipping from thief's shoulders down to the curve of his collarbone.

Bakura glided his fingers across Bakari's clay-colored skin, moulding the flesh and muscles as if they were wet clay. The pads of his fingers scraped against a stiff, scarred nipple and Bakari called out, grabbing onto Bakura's forearms.

A thrum shivered deep into Bakura's gut. He began to palm Bakari's broad chest. Bakari wasn't wearing his scarlet cloak, so Bakura had free-range of the thief's shoulders, and chest, and lean, hard stomach. Bakura raked his fingers down the washboard of Bakari's belly, listening to the thief groan in pleasure at the sensation of being truly touched for the first time.

Bakura's hands were shaking. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he couldn't stop. He needed to feel Bakari's skin, needed to see Bakari arch from every single touch, and suddenly he needed to have the same done to him. Bakura took Bakari's right hand in both of his own, and raised it to his left cheek. He stared at the thief, fearing he'd somehow be rejected, but Bakura cupped Bakura's pale face with a dark, calloused palm. He slid his hand down enough to trace Bakura's thin, pale lips with the pad of his thumb.

Their cheeks brushed together again as their fingers combed each other's hair. Their lips ghosted across one another's skin, exploring the curves and textures of their bodies- where they were similar and where they were different. Bakura shrugged out of his coat and tore off his shirt, eagar feel contact on every inch of his skin. Bakari buried his face in Bakura's moon-pale chest, kneading each inch with deep, longful kisses.

Their lips finally met, fleeting kisses stolen between gasping breaths. Bakura found himself kicking his shoes and pants off and lying in the soft grass surrounding the oasis. Bakura raised up on his hands, staring down at the dark spirit. He blinked his silvery eyes, as if coming to from a dream, but Bakura didn't want the moment to be a dream. He wanted it to be as real, as painful, and as overwhelming as it felt, so he grabbed the thief's face and pulled him in for a slow, deep kiss. The more they touched, the more the dark spirit could feel his soul mending into something tangible and human- both connected and separate from his original self. And in that moment, in the grass, in the Duat, with the burning ancestors above them, Bakura learned how much it hurt to heal one's spirit- how much it hurt, and how much relief he felt as it happened.

Bakura tugged at Bakari's dark shenti until it fell on top of their other discarded clothes. He grabbed the firm, brown ass and pulled Bakari down and between his stark, white legs, causing their erections to rub together. Bakari gasped, but neither spoke. There didn't seem to be a need for words. They couldn't merge and become a proper ank; they were too broken for that. This act of need and intimacy was a replacement ritual. They could not become a single, perfect soul. They were too broken. They were too broken, so instead of one, perfect soul, they would become two flawed ones, little figures that looked fine when linked together, but a little off if separated.

Bakari sank his hips and then circled up, causing their cocks to grind and rub. His movements became quick as he moved in a consistent staccato. Their breaths were reduced to huffs, Bakura kept his hands on Bakari's as while Bakari clutched to Bakura's shoulders. Bakura tried to keep his eyes open, tried to watch it all, but found himself leaning into the grass and closing his eyes the more the tension swelled in his groin.

"Bakura," the thief whispered into Bakura's throat, kissing it.

He shuddered, feeling too good at the moment to process it, so he focused on the pleasure of their bodies frotting together, at the growing, needful ache at the base of his cock. Bakura squeezed Bakari's ass and forced him to rock faster, more, more, more, until Bakura's world was heat, and friction, and gods yes he was cumming, and he realized that Bakari was cumming at the exact same moment- their pleasure intertwined by the unique bond their spirits shared. They held together, breathing hard.

"Oh . . ." Bakura whispered. He felt the heat of tears burn his eyes, but they lingered around his lashes instead of rolling down his cheeks.

"Bakura, what's wrong?" Bakari held Bakura's flushed cheek, his hand cool against Bakura's skin.

"I remember."

* * *

"And then she screamed because she thought it was a fiend, but it was only a wild cat that stalked rats near the grain cache." Bakura laughed. He was telling Bakari a story from their childhood, one that Bakari remembered, but Bakura had forgotten until the night before.

"But somehow we ended up getting into trouble for it. Like we scared her on purpose," Bakari added.

"We never liked her."

"No . . ." a silence settled over them as they stared at the sands. An unspoken _but we never wanted her to burn to death with the others_ lingered in the air between them. It'd just been a girl a few years older than them, one that liked to pick on them, maybe they didn't like her, but they never wanted to watch her burn.

"We should reach the end of the desert tomorrow morning." Bakari attempted to change the subject.

"Yeah," Bakura said, though his voice was quiet, "we'll finally see the gods."

"What's wrong? Aren't you eager to spill divine blood?"

A sharp look crossed Bakura's face. "The important thing is that you're going home. You're going to see them again no matter what."

Bakari grinned. " _We're_ going home."

Bakura snorted. He stared at the mountains in the distance. Soon they'd part and a gate would appear, the barrier that separated the Duat from where the gods judged souls.

"I miss the monsoons," Bakari said to interrupt the building silence.

"I'm sure there'll be monsoons in Aaru."

"You think so?"

"Farmers still farm in the afterlife, so there must be rivers and storms that flood those rivers in order to grow wheat and flax."

Bakari grinned his usual, roguish grin. "That's true . . . what will we do?"

"What do you mean?"

"If farmers still farm, if people carry on in death as they did in life . . . what will we do?"

"Hmm . . ." Bakura marveled at why Bakari would even care what he did. He himself had no inclinations for _working_ for the pharaohs for all eternity, but he did suppose people needed something to do to fill the millenia. "Build things, I suppose."

"Really? You think?"

Bakura shrugged. "I don't see why not. We always did like the tools."

"Yeah . . . yeah, why the hell not? There's no tombs in Aaru, but there are other things to build."

Bakari talked the entire day, and Bakura commented enough to make sure he kept his companion happy, but a dense weight sat in his stomach. He knew the gods would never accept them. He knew it didn't matter that, deep down inside, the thief was almost as naive and good-natured as their host had been. It didn't matter if merging with Diabound had healed his soul and that an easier nature had replaced the much more bitter thief of 3,000 years ago. It didn't matter if the process had been contagious and the dark spirit himself had discovered his own humanity in Bakari's arms. The gods were the gods and they were set in their ways. Once they reached the Tribunal, they'd fight, and they'd be destroyed.

But Bakura didn't want that fate for the thief. He wasn't sure how, but he was going to find a way to get Bakari through to Aaru. Bakura always knew that he was destined for darkness, for oblivion, but he liked the idea of part of himself (the thief walking beside him) getting home, seeing their family again, touching their faces and hearing their songs, and sharing bread with them as they had as a child.

He'd find a way.

It wouldn't be like with Marik.

He wouldn't fail _yet again._

 _He'd find a way this time. This one time. He couldn't always fail. It was impossible to fail at_ everything _. This one time it would turn out alright. It had to because there would never be another chance to make things right._

They camped early, finding one last oasis and knowing there wouldn't be another. They washed, and ate what they could, and built a large fire. They both sat naked in the grass, gooseflesh tightened their backs because the night was cold, but droplets of sweat decorated their bare chests from the fire.

Bakari glanced in Bakura's direction, firelight and shadow fought over the contours of his face. His lips parted, but Bakura never game him a chance to speak. He pushed him into the grass, going in for a kiss too fast and smacking their noses together. Bakari laughed, holding Bakura's pale face and tilted his head to the side so their lips could match up. Bakura groaned into the thief's mouth, overwhelmed by the sensation of their bodies touching again.

"It's been a long day," Bakari whispered. "Guess we should turn in."

He grabbed his scarlet robe, wrapping it behind himself and then flipping them so that Bakura was on the ground, Bakari was on top, and the robe was cocooned around them. He wiggled himself between Bakura's legs, leaning close and sucking on Bakura's swan-white throat. Strands of Bakura's longer white hair wrapped around his neck, getting in the way. Bakari brushed them away as he started to press their cocks together.

"I need more," Bakura whispered, his voice gruff and raw.

Bakari pulled back. His eyes looked lost. "I . . ."

Bakura chuckled, dark and with a hint of mockery. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out."

Bakari shot him an irritated glance, but instead of retorting, he stuck two fingers into his mouth and began sucking. He used the wet fingers to press into Bakura's body. In life, in physical bodies, it wouldn't have been so easy, but they were spirits in a spirit world, not restricted to physical limitations or inconveniences of carnal bodies. Theirs was an act of merging.

And they did merge. Bakari eased into Bakura's body, rocking with a steady rhythm as soon as he began, unwary of how apt he was for someone who'd never known such intimate pleasures in life. Bakura clutched to him, clawing at his back, sucking in the smell of the desert of which they traveled through. Brown limbs, white limbs, red-dyed flax cloth, they were a tangle, a mess, they were as close as they could get to being complete.

It felt like Bakari reached deeper with each thrust of his hips. Bakura closed his eyes, whimpering as the pleasure swept him up and made him forget about 3,000 years of darkness. He whispered something endearing, forgetting the words as soon as they left his mouth. He felt too good to remember anything at the moment; he was wholly in the present. His left leg slipped out of the red fabric cloaking their bodies, stretching out further so Bakari could penetrate deeper.

The thief's broad, course hand found Bakura's shaft. He ran his palm up and down the shaft a few times before gripping and tugging. Bakura's toes curled, one foot gripping cloth, the other digging into the grass. He lifted his ass up, squeezing, feeling his own pleasure meld with the thief's. Their breath caught in union, their bodies shuddered in union, and their limbs grew slack and relaxed in union. They lay stacked on top of each other, clutching, gripping, crying into each other's hair, overwhelmed. Redemption hurt worse than darkness, that's why it was easier to cackle and fight than to forgive.

They fell asleep like that, locked together, clinging to each other like a man dying in the desert clinging to an empty water skin. Waking was easier for Bakura than it had been the first morning. It no longer felt as abrupt or harsh, though it was still an odd feeling. They washed again, ate dates and figs, and set off for the end of their journey.

* * *

"There," Bakari said.

Two guards stood in front of the gate. They eyed the thief and dark spirit, pointing their spears at both Bakura and Bakari.

"We want to see the gods. Take us to them," Bakari ordered. His face looked stern, determined.

The guards stared at them, then at each other. One vanished behind the gate, leaving his partner to watch Bakura and Bakari on his own. Bakura considered plunging a knife into the solitary guard's gut. Draw first blood for the inevitable war, but Bakari grabbed his hand as if sensing Bakura's thoughts. Bakura looked down and their locked hands, brown and white like the foam and espresso that used to swirl together in Ryou's cappuccinos when he stayed up too late working on the diorama of Kemet that Bakura used for his Ultimate Dark Game.

He huffed, turned away, but waited with Bakari until more guards returned, a dozen, all with spears aimed for their hearts. The new guards led them inside.

The room where Ma'at's scales stood was extravagant. Fountains babbled with clean water, servants fanned the gods with ostrich fans while others swept the floors, Bakura sneered at it all. Why would they ever _want_ to be part of this? How could they _bear_ it? But a glance at his thief made Bakura relax. His starlight colored eyes looked hopeful. He wanted to see their village, their father, their mother, their sister, their cousins, he wanted to see them _so badly_ that he was willing to stare down his greatest enemies and _be polite_ although the gods didn't deserve it.

Anubis stood in front of them, tall, dark, beautiful, feral. Bakari met his gaze and said, "I want to go home."

"You conspired with _him_." The god frowned at Bakura.

Bakari squeezed Bakura's hand harder. "He's not the darkness anymore. He's part of me."

The god sniffed the air. "He'll always carry dark within him. It's his nature."

"So what?" Bakari screamed, his voice echoed off the stone walls. The servants all stopped their chores to stared at the human soul that dared speak up against a god. "All men carry darkness- they still get a chance to be judged!"

Anubis shook his head. " _Iksu_ , he never had a body, so he never had an _ib_. He cannot be judged."

"I may not have an _ib_ , but this thief has a _ren_!" Bakura barked, unconcerned with his own fate, already trying to plan who to attack first. "And that _ren_ is Bakari! You will use it or I will carve it into your throat!"

Bakari jerked his hand out of Bakura's. "Enough."

He plunged his hand into his chest, ripping out his own heart and tossing it on the ground. He held out his hand towards Anubis. The god considered Bakari a moment, and then handed him a khopesh sword. The thief used the sword to cleave his own heart in two.

"Idiot! What are you doing?" Bakura grabbed Bakari's sword arm, as if he could prevent the blow already dealt.

Bakari jerked away again, bending down to grab a half into each hand. He offered the two fragments to Anubis. "Weigh them each. We can pass on together or get eaten by Ammit together. At least give us a chance!"

"No." Bakura snarled, hand wrapping around his switchblade in his coat pocket. "Judge _him_. Let _him_ see _his_ family. Damn me if you want, but _he_ needs to go home!"

Bakari growled, his fists tightening over the chunks of red in his palms. "It isn't you and me, Bakura! It's us! We're going home!"

Bakura ignored him, staring instead at Anubis. "I'm the one that fought the Pharaoh, I'm the one that merged with Necrophades, he was trapped in the Ring. If you want a soul to punish- punish mine." He pulled the blade from his pocket, pointing it at god. "Because if you destroy him, I will destroy you in return."

Something heavy clashed against the back of Bakura's head, sending him into the floor, unconscious.

* * *

When he woke up, his worst enemy was looming above him. He pushed himself into a sort of sitting position, rubbing the back of his throbbing skull. "What the fuck are _you_ doing here?"

Atem laughed, amused. He was dressed in royal robes, and smelled of a mix of Nile silt and sandalwood. "Helping you. You have a bad way of digging your own grave."

Bakura struggled to his feet, still woozy, his head throbbing. "Get out of my fucking way, you bastard. I don't have time to play with you right now."

"Bakura."

"What?" he growled out the single word between clenched teeth, wanting nothing more than to slit the throat of the pharaoh standing in front of him, but his knife was gone, stolen from his hand as he lay on the ground.

Atem tilted his head up, gesturing with his eyes for Bakura to look over his shoulder. "It's already over."

Bakura jerked around, staring at the Scales. Bakari and Ma'at stood side by side as Thoth wrote in his scroll. Half a heart sat on one side, an ostrich feather sat on the other, the scales were balanced.

"That's the second half," Atem explained. "They both balanced. It was easy without you there screaming and making empty threats. Sorry about your head, by the way, but you were only going to make things worse."

"You fucking cunt," Bakura spat on the floor, but his hatred was muted by the sight of Bakari, who almost glowed as he watched the heart balance on the scale. Bakura sighed. "I'm glad we have eternity, because I will find a way to pay you back eventually, but for now . . . I have something to do."

He walked up to Bakari, standing beside him.

The thief turned, still grinning. "See? I knew what I was doing!"

"You're an idiot," Bakura whispered, but he smiled as soon as the words left his mouth. He grabbed Bakari's hand, pulling him to the other side of chamber and towards the entrance to Aaru. "Come on, idiot. Let's go home."


	31. Dark Necrofear x Dark Magician Girl/ Costume Party AU

*****Here is my second attempt at femslash*****

* * *

She crossed her fingers, muttering under her breath. "Bi or gay, bi or gay, dear god anything but straight."

"Who?" Bakura hissed. Of course, Bakura was not his name. It was just her roommate, but they decided to go to the costume party as Yami Bakura and Dark Necrofear, so that was who they were now.

"Over there, check her out."

Bakura raised a white painted eyebrow. "Dark Magician Girl, nice. I thought we were the only two here stupid enough to use a Halloween party as an excuse to whip out the cosplay."

"It must be destiny, right?" Dark Necrofear frowned. "She's probably straight. I have horrible luck."

"While I'm not sure that's how the Heart of the Cards works, she's definitely _not_ straight."

"How can you tell?"

Bakrua flicked his gold-plated Millennium Ring. "Gaydar, of course."

Necrofear rolled her eyes at the abridged joke, but she also smiled. "Okay, you're usually better at calling it than me. Hey-" she elbowed Bakura's ribs, "give me a condom."

"Why the fuck?"

"Because I'm going to go over there and talk to her."

"So?"

"So I'm going to flirt."

"Still not seeing why you need a condom."

"I might get lucky."

" _Still_ not seeing why you'd need a condom."

"Don't be dense. Pretend you like girls-"

"Ew-"

"Whatever. _Pretend_. And a hot Dark Magician Girl wants to have sex with you- what would you do?"

"Ah, the wand."

"Yeah, but, y'know, better to have a condom in case the plastic has rough edges or something. Not to mention it's just a little more sanitary."

Bakura sighed, reaching into his jeans for his wallet. "Okay. Whatever, but you owe me because this is my last one."

Dark Necrofear grinned, shifting her doll to one hand so she could grab the condom. However, right before she could take it, Bakura pulled it back.

"What the fuck?"

"Wait, suddenly I need it."

"Why?" She almost yelled, but kept her voice to a loud whisper.

"Because maybe this party was our destiny after all- look who just walked into the party."

"Well holy shit." Necrofear whistled as she saw Marik Ishtar walk into the crowd. She knew, then, that she'd lost the condom, but it didn't really matter, she'd had plenty of other options.

"Well, I'm powerless against the forces of destiny and Thiefshipping, don't fight any alter egos without me, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." He waved over his shoulder as he marched away.

Necrofear sighed. She went over to the punchbowl for a cup of spiked fruit punch, hoping a little booze would bump up her courage. She was in the fucking YuGiOh fandom, she didn't have charisma or social skills- she was the kind of nerd that dressed up like Dark Necrofear for a party when everyone else was a sexy vampire, or a sexy nurse, or a sexy vampire nurse. She'd even shaved her head for the costume, dark mocha scalp gleaming from the shea butter she used on her skin. Of course, the cute girl across the room also had to be a nerd if she was dressed up as DMG (no "sexy" needed at the front of the title since it was implied).

While Dark Necrofear stared at the orange slices floating in her punch, she didn't catch the object of her thoughts walking towards her.

"Hi." She smiled, grabbing a pre-filled red solo cup of punch for herself.

Dark Necrofear jerked her head up, heart jumping into her throat. "Uh, hi." She thanked Ra that her complexion was dark and wouldn't show her blush.

"I really like your costume."

"Yours too."

She gestured to the mock Bakura and Marik sitting at the bay window near the front of the room. "Did you see those guys? I took a picture and posted it to my Tumblr. They're too cute!"

Necrofear snorted. "Bakura is my roommate. He's an asshole."

"Sounds in-character to me." She giggled, flashing her cell phone. "Mind if I take a pic of us to post?"

Necrofear's heart cannonballed from her throat to her stomach. "Y-yeah, sure. Um, tag me, okay?"

Her pretty smiled flashed back on her face. "No problem. What's your url?"

"Brokendoll99."

The Dark Magician Girl grabbed Dark Necrofear, leaning against her as she took three selfies of them. After the pictures, the Dark Magician Girl stayed with her arm locked with Necrofear's as she Swyped left-handed on her phone.

"Okay, I tagged you."

"Thanks. I'll reblog it later."

DMG gave Necrofear's arm a slight tug. "Why don't we go and sit down?"

"Okay." Dark Necrofear tried to smile. She felt like an idiot.

They sat on the couch, crossing their legs and holding their drinks.

"Can I see your doll?"

"Sure." She passed the doll to the Dark Magician Girl, holding her drink and wand for her so she could examine the prop.

"This is amazing. Did you buy it online?"

"I made it."

The lovely magician looked up with an excited expression. "Really? It's really good." A playful, wicked expression masked her face. "I made my prop, too."

Dark Necrofear finished her drink so she could set her empty solo cup on the carpet without worrying about spilling it. She glanced at staff. "It's pretty good."

"I know the dimensions are a little off, but this one was customized for a specific purpose."

"Besides cosplay?"

"Well, it kinda ties together." She winked at Dark Necrofear.

She giggled, nervous. "I feel like I'm missing an inside joke."

"Hmmmm? Want to be let in on my secret?" The cute, blonde magician leaned in close. "You'd have to leave the party and come back to my place. I only live a block away."

Necrofear couldn't believe what was happening. It was too easy, too perfect, not even destiny set things up so nicely. She wondered if the girl was a ax-murderer. Probably. Totally worth it. Her breast were swollen and near bursting out of her costume, her perfume smelled amazing- like jasmine and ylang-ylang- and the expression on her face was happy and eager. Dark Necrofear nodded her head.

She sent a quick text to her roommate to let him know what was going on. He grinned and flipped her off from across the room- their version of a hug. She returned the gesture before standing up to leave with her arm hooked around the DMG's.

The night air felt cool on their skin. A slight breeze made the Dark Magician Girl's nipples press against the fabric of her costume. Dark Necrofear tried not to stare, but her eyes kept drifting down the hard points raising the blue up from the rise of her bosum.

"Like my dress?" She asked with a coy smile.

"Did you make it?"

"Yes."

"I wish I could sew. I had to buy my outfit."

"It suits you, though."

"Yours too."

They reached a single story apartment complex and DMG let them inside one of the six doors. Necrofear blinked in the dark, waiting for the bright flash of the overhead light. Instead, the door closed, and Dark Necrofear felt herself slammed against the nearest wall. Hands grabbed both of her breasts and lips smashed against hers.

She froze, too shocked to process the moment, but it was wanted, and as soon as her brain caught up with her body, Dark Necrofear whimpered into the kiss. The doll dropped from her hand, but she hardly noticed as her fingertips searched for the soft, smooth skin of DMG's breasts. She slipped her thumbs below the fabric, teasing her nipples for a moment before easing up and circling around her areolas.

"What are you into?" The Dark Magician Girl asked.

"Either or," Dark Necrofear muttered like a complete idiot, too occupied to understand the question.

The female magician laughed. "No, I mean what turns you on? Do you have any kinks?"

"Oh." Necrofear wanted to die, she felt so dumb at that moment. Nor could she think about kinks, how could she think about kinks? They were already ditching a party early and fumbling around in the dark, that was all she wanted at the moment, thinking of anything else was too much effort. "Can . . . we keep our costumes on?"

"Yeah, of course. Follow me. Let's go to my room."

"It's dark."

"I won't let you stumble." She took Necrofear's hand and led her through the black living room.

Dark Necrofear held her breath as they moved. She didn't like walking without seeing where she was going, but the hallway had a soft glow which helped. The light came from a fish tank sitting in the Dark Magician Girl's bedroom. A school of neon tetras swarmed around Yami and Kaiba action figures battling in an underwater duel.

"That's cool." Dark Necrofear tried to slow down to admire the fish tank.

"I'll give you a tour in the morning, but for now-" She used their walking momentum to swing Necrofear onto the bed, leaping on top of her and straddling her with creamy, white thighs.

Dark Necrofear squirmed a little, uncomfortably wet in her costume from their kissing alone. She tried not to pant, self-conscious about seeming too eager, but she couldn't get enough air so her lips parted, and her breath came out in loud puffs. The beautiful magician above her only smiled, bending down and running her tongue along Necrofear's flat, dark belly.

"So . . . do you want to see my magic staff's secret?"

"S-sure."

She pulled the top away, revealing a smooth, silicon extension.

"Is . . . is that . . ."

"Sure is, and it vibrates." She twisted the bottom of the staff and a familiar buzz competed with the bubbling of the fish tank and the sound of Necrofear's breathing. "How did you make that?"

"Magic." She winked. "Actually, I design toys for a certain adult-minded company. This one is boring . . . maybe next time I'll whip out some of my really fun ones, but for tonight I'm the Dark Magician Girl."

Dark Necrofear couldn't help but laugh. It sounded like her roommate's Bakura-laugh impersonation, but she couldn't stop the noise. Everything felt full circle, she'd imagined teasing the cute, innocent Magician girl with her own staff, but now she was about to get fucked by it instead- a thrilling change of plans.

The blonde magician ran the vibrating tip down Necrofear's belly and towards the bottom of her costume. Necrofear moved to slide the fabric down, but the Dark Magician Girl slapped at her hand.

"Costumes stay on."

Necrofear fisted the sheets instead, squirming when the hum of the vibrator started to rub against the fabric of her costume.

"Like that?"

"Mmmm." Necrofear nodded, eyes closed tight as she concentrated on the sensation sending jolts of imaginary electricity up into her lower belly.

"Let's see how easy it is to make you cum," The DMG said with a light-hearted laugh.

Too easy, Necrofear already knew. She'd been in the mood all day, and the feeling of thighs squeezing on each side of her was rushing her towards a too-quick climax. She shifted up, squeezing her ass as she pressed up and into the toy. The feeling of the vibrator so close to her clitoris was delightful and maddening. She was so close. She wanted to smash the toy against her and give it the last few rubs needed to finish in a burst of pleasure, but she was too timid, so she stayed at the Dark Magician Girl's mercy, trying to hint at what she wanted by bucking more quickly against the toy.

She seemed to understand, pressing the toy against Necrofear and moving it a little faster. Dark Necrofear held the sheets tighter, pressing her hips up high as she came. Her eyes fluttered open, she was too nervous to look at her partner so she stared at the wall, noticing a black light poster of a ghost ship sailing on top of choppy waves.

"You're cute." The Dark Magician Girl chuckled, popping the vibrator into her mouth and sucking on the tip. She pulled the toy away, looking down at Necrofear. "Ready for round two?"

"We can switch," Necrofear whispered.

"In a moment. Your O-face is too adorable. I want to see it again."

She pulled the panty-like bottom of Necrofear's costume to the side, holding it next to Necrofear's side so she could glide the vibe between Necrofear's lips. She gasped; her eyes closed again.

The toy slipped into her with easy, smooth effort. Necrofear's mouth hung open. She couldn't censor herself anymore, or feel self conscious. The Dark Magician Girl kept the toy planted deep, swirling it in little circles and tilting it up to hit Necrofear's G-spot. Dark Necrofear's thick thighs squeezed. She tried to spread her legs wider to give DMG more room, but the longer the magician toyed with her, the harder it was to keep herself from squeezing her legs together. Then she started to cry out, too loud for an apartment but unable to stop. She bucked, and moaned, and held her breath as a shiver ran from her navel to her nipples. She dropped into the sheets, gasping as the Dark Magician Girl slid the toy out and licked it.

"Mmmm . . . nice."

She turned the toy off, giving it a few quick sucks before setting it down on the mattress. She balanced on the mattress, slipping off her panties and dropping them next to the magic wand before straddling Necrofear once again and taking her hand.

"Touch me," she whispered, guiding Necrofear's fingers into herself and riding them.

Dark Necrofear licked her lips. The Dark Magician Girl was hot and silky against her fingers and the feeling excited her. The Dark Magician Girl leaned back, rocking back and forth with little jerks of her hips. Dark Necrofear reached out with her other hand, teasing just above the Dark Magician Girl's cliterous. Her moans became high-pitched, the swaying of her hips became fast and uneven, and after a few more minutes she dug her nails into Necrofear's forearms as she tensed, shuddered, then relaxed.

Necrofear slipped her fingers to her mouth, sucking on the Dark Magician Girl's taste as she stared her in the eyes. A bashful smile lit up the magician's face. It was the first time Necrofear saw her act less-than-confident. She sat up, pulling the DMG into her lap. Her left hand cradled the back of the Dark Magician Girl's head as she leaned in for a soft, slow kiss, testing their lips together, tasting punch and sex, and finding herself aroused from it. She lay the Dark Magician Girl gently against the duvet and asked, "Ready for your round two?"


	32. Yugi AutoErotica/ Fantasy with Yami Bakura x Yami Marik (Mild Puzzleshipping)

*****In the prompt Atem was supposed to kinkshame him, but it kinda turned into mild Puzzleshipping.*****

* * *

Yugi closed his eyes, digging his toes into the sheets. It was his Soul Room, not his bedroom, but the sheets beneath his toes, the sweat rolling down his temples, the cock in his hand, all felt real and physical. He'd woken in his Soul Room from a strange dream . . . a very strange dream, and he couldn't go back to sleep. The dream had left him throbbing, yearning, needing, so Yugi decided to release some tension to help him sleep.

He thought about finding his other half, forgetting the dream and having a conversation instead, but was afraid of bothering his other self, so he stayed in his Soul Room, desperately stroking himself and muffling his whimpers although no one could hear him within his own headspace.

His dream kept creeping around the edges of Yugi's mind. He tried to shove it aside, but it was harder to shove thoughts aside when one was in their own subconscious. He'd been back on Seto's blimp, but the wind hadn't been so cold nor so fierce. The night sky had been calm, and beautiful. The stars spread out and glittered against the deepest black- black that Yugi felt as if he could fall into and never return from, but it wasn't terrifying, instead it'd been strange and exciting to think about.

Then he heard laughter, as if a pack of hyenas were descending upon him, but it wasn't an entire pack, merely two- Ryou and Marik's other halves. They were like the sky above them, ageless, dark, exciting. Yugi knew he could call the Pharaoh to help him, but in the dream he didn't; he let himself be caught. He waited for it with, wide, eager violet eyes. And they closed in on him, each with a hand in his hair, each with their teeth sinking into his neck, each tearing the clothes away from his flesh.

In the dream, Yugi had closed his eye and tilted his head back. Now as he remembered his dream, he did the same. Their mouths had been searing hot against his cold skin. Their nails had left crescents on his ribs and biceps. He'd reach out and pulled their hair in turn. The other Bakura's hair had been fine gossamer between his fingers. The other Marik's hair had been stiff, golden filaments resisting Yugi's hold. When they both bit his nipples he'd sank to the floor, lying on the scraps of his destroyed outfit.

Marik's other half lay on his own back, somehow naked. He'd pulled Yugi on top of him so that Yugi faced the beautiful, black sky, and shoved his huge, pulsing cock straight into Yugi without warning. He didn't have to think that the dream was illogical, it was a dream and he'd bounced his ass faster up and down the cock inside of him. The other Marik held his wrists, but the other Bakura held Yugi's ankles, pressing them up and spreading Yugi wide. Yugi couldn't bounce in the new position, but it didn't matter because Bakura shoved into them as well. The two created a ruthless, alternating rhythm and Yugi had screamed at the stars.

He'd felt himself rush to the edge, but moments away from release he'd waken up in his Soul Room. Yet the dream replayed itself over and over in his mind's eye. Yugi could almost feel the teeth, and nails, and hot, hot flesh slamming into his body, and he shuddered as he neared climax again.

"Aibou!"

Yugi jumped when he heard the familiar voice. His face went red- exertion, embarrassment, and the ever present yearning that screamed in his groin.

"I . . . could see your thoughts."

"It was a dream." Yugi shook his head, as if to shake away the guilt he felt.

The Pharaoh gave him a look that told Yugi he knew that only the first time he'd thought of it had been a dream.

"It's my mind!" Yugi near-shrieked, too close, too needful to mind his tone or think about what he was screaming.

"Yes. It is." The Pharaoh frowned. "But, Aibou . . . them?"

"If you have a problem with it- why don't you come over here and give me something better to think about!" Yugi slapped a hand over his mouth. His brain finally joined in on the conversation and he realized he was acting like a jerk. "Um . . . I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry, _Mou hitori no boku,_ I'm-"

Before he could finish apologizing, his other half lunged for the bed. He held Yugi's face and kissed him, Yugi plunged his tongue into his other half's mouth and deepened the kiss. They pulled of each other's clothes, desperate and needful. Yugi realized his other soul was already hard, his head gleaming with precum.

Yugi looked up. " _Mou hitori no boku_?"

It was his other half's turn to look away and blush. "Like I said . . . I could see your thoughts."

Yugi used his thumb to glaze the precum around his other half's swollen head. "And this is what happened when you saw my thoughts?"

The Pharaoh didn't answer. He grabbed Yugi and whined from pleasure as Yugi continued to circle his thumb around the Pharaoh's head, gasping and begging, "Please, Aibou!"

Yugi pressed their erections together, sliding their shafts up and down. They panted against each other's skin, holding on to each other's shoulders except for the hand Yugi used to keep their cocks sliding together. He moved his hips faster, increasing the friction and pressure, and then the Pharaoh's nails dug into Yugi's shoulders as he came. Hearing his other half, and feeling his skin break beneath his other soul's nails was all it took for Yugi to finally fall over the edge. He bit his other self's neck, relishing the shivers and jolts of orgasm as they coursed through him.

Yugi couldn't help but smile as he leaned over and whispered in his other heart's ear. "Who was I thinking about then?"


	33. Powershipping/ (mild)BDSM/ Sub!Marik

*****This was so hard to write. I couldn't suspend my disbelief enough to imagine Marik liking S &M (especially as a sub), not even in an AU. So this was the best I could do. I'll try to write one more of these tomorrow, but then I'm taking another small break to work on some other stuff in the great heaping pile which is my to-do list*****

* * *

Marik Ishtar hung in the air like a broken angel, bound up by a custom-made, silk rope harness. Seto had taken great care designing it. The silk threads twisted together to form the rope were a deep, rich eggplant shade. The harness itself kept Marik suspended in the air; however, not one of the soft, silken cords touched any of Marik's scars. That was one of the rules, and they respected the rules.

Even from his erotic prison, Marik stared at Seto and smirked. The pale lavender eyes sent a mild shiver up and down Seto's spine. Marik had always claimed that it hadn't been him at Battle City, not really, not for the duels, but Seto doubted. He understood dissociation, intimately, but he did not believe one could ever fully separate themselves from trauma- no more so than Marik could separate the scars from his body.

And the look Marik gave Seto at that moment made him sure of it. Marik never really had a dark side, not truly, It had always been Marik on some fundamental level of psyche. Seto mirror the smirk back at Marik. The CEO never needed the excuse of an alter ego or disorder to hide his nature.

He walked up to the tangled, living marionette, grabbing Marik's hair with a black gloved hand and bringing their faces close. He only wore black gloves, boots, nothing more; Marik wore the harness. "Ready?"

Marik licked his lips.

That was another thing they both decided on- no pet names. Pet and Sir, Dom and Sub, Master and Slave - it was all too endearing, too sentimental, for them. They didn't need a title, they had plenty of titles in their daily lives. What they needed was control, control of someone powerful, even if only for the occasional night, but neither wanted to give it so they switched and tonight was Seto's turn.

He adjusted some the pulleys supporting the ropes, lowering Marik's upper half so his mouth was centimeters away from Seto's erection. Tugging at Marik's hair again, he guided his cock into Marik's mouth. A small grunt escaped Seto when the heat of Marik's tongue glided against his shaft. Marik had a sweet mouth, when it was too busy for the former tomb-keeper to speak. Seto arched a little, allowing himself to push deeper. He moved his hips, sliding in and out.

Seto stared down, his long, pale stomach, the base of his cock, Marik's lips and disheveled hair, it was all a pretty sight. He felt himself climbing just from watching his shaft thrust in and ease out of Marik's rosy, blushing lips. His other hand went to Marik's hair.

Saliva dripped from Marik's lips, making Seto's cock gleam brightly in the well-lit room. It also made Marik's lips slick and easier to push between. Seto's pace quickened. It was a little difficult standing up, but too good to stop. His own breath sounded ragged and twaton in his ears. The sound added to Seto's arousal. Another grunt escaped. Seto felt his ass clench as his orgasm approached. In truth, Seto would have prefered to untie Marik, to bend over against the nearest table, and let Marik take him. Neither had ever penetrated the other with their own flesh. Both were too vain and proud to admit the urge, the temptation. It'd become a game with them- to see who would cave first and suggest vanilla sex. Seto had his pride, but he feared he'd lose in the end. But not today. Today he had Marik tied up like a fallen angel; today he had Marik's spit dripping from his balls; today he leaned back and closed his eyes as he came into Marik's mouth.

After Seto recovered, he adjusted the pulleys again so that Marik floated on his back. Seto used a silk handkerchief to dry Marik's face. From their prop table, he took a small, egg shaped vibrator and a bottle of lube. Covering the toy in clear gel, Seto inserted it into Marik's body. Marik grunted as it went in, but relaxed as soon as Seto turned on the pulse setting with a remote control.

Gloved hand still slick with silicon lubricant, Seto grabbed Marik's shaft. His long, thick cock was mostly hard, and a few strokes had it rock solid and twisting in Seto's gloved hand.

"Like what you see?" Marik asked, but his voice was breathy.

Seto offered him a good-natured smile- a rare expression for the CEO. He didn't bother responding verbally. He thumbed the slit in the head of Marik's cock, inciting a hitch of breath from Marik, before Seto returned to quick, broad flicks of his wrist.

Marik turned away, and Seto's gaze went to his face. Marik always turned away when he was close to done. The former leader of the Ghouls hated for anyone to seem him at that last moment of sex, when an individual was rendered helpless by pleasure, when they became weak, and mortal, and carnal, so Seto enjoyed watching that expression, and he made sure Marik knew he was watching. The true power of the scene didn't come from the ropes or who sucked off who, the true power came from seeing Marik in that single, primal moment of orgasm.

Marik closed his eyes, a moan humming behind his closed lips, his face wincing, contorting, and then relaxing.

"Good," Seto said as he cleaned Marik up.

He removed the vibrator, undid the harness and the ropes, and guided Marik to a chaise for him to recover. Seto removed his gloves and shoes as he sat on a stool next to Marik. He rubbed a special ointment into Marik's skin anywhere the rope had bound him.

"Next week?" Marik asked as Seto massaged his wrist.

"Yes."

"The usual?"

 _The usual_ involved Seto blindfolded and bound, on his knees, sucking Marik off and getting a handjob in return.

"I was thinking maybe something a little different."

"Oh?" Marik smirked as Seto moved to his other bronzed wrist. "And I starting to bore you?"

"Don't you ever get tired of vibrators and blow jobs?"

Marik laughed. "Never."

Seto considered his next words, and decided it was time for him to fold his cards. "They're both good, but I've been wondering what your cock would feel like instead me."


	34. Seto x Marik x Ryou/ A Game and a Toy

***** A request for Seto x Ryou x Marik exploring a kink that wasn't *too weird* which was hard, because what's too weird? Some of you guys are freaks (I know because of the crazy things you request) lol, so I have no idea what's considered a "normal kink", so I went with Seto's safety kink of dragon inspired sex toys. That's as not-weird as Ryou and Seto get.*****

* * *

Seto snorted in amusement when he entered his bedroom. Marik and Ryou lay naked, side by side and each tracing a hand in lazy patterns on the other's body. They acted like they didn't even see Seto, and he understood the game immediately.

Seto removed his tie and jacket, talking to them as he undressed. "You both have good timing. I was rather hoping for company tonight."

They didn't answer, they wouldn't. Ryou leaned forwards and started making out with Marik. His kisses were sloppy, and they both used their tongues too much. It was a show, one Seto enjoyed watching. He leaned against the bedpost and stared at them, Marik gold and tan, and Ryou all porcelain white.

Marik pressed Ryou into the mattress and rammed his cock into Ryou's ass. Ryou arched and called out Marik's name. Seto bit his bottom lip as he watched. Ryou looked enraptured by the intrusion instead of uncomfortable, so they must have prepped in advance. Seto stood near the bed and watched for another moment. He could watch Ryou's face all night long, especially when it was wrinkled in pleasure.

Seto crawled onto the bed with them. He growled in Marik's ear, nipping it as Marik thrust into Ryou without restraint. He dropped down and started to bite around Ryou's nipple, finishing by sucking the nipple until it was hard and full in Seto's mouth. They continued to ignore him; it was part of the game they played. Seto gave Ryou's cock of few teasing strokes, knowing Ryou wanted to call out for more, but refusing to indulge him since he refused to call out.

If Seto could get them to acknowledge him- he won. If they managed to ignore him until both of them came- they won. It was their favorite game. They took turns on who played "ghost", and it appeared to be Seto's turn.

And Seto played to win. He jumped off the bed and pulled a briefcase from underneath the bedframe. Inside laid an arrangement of his favorite Bad Dragon novelties. He pulled out The Royal Dragon - eight inches of sculpture dragon cock with an added tendril near the base for extra stimulation. He took the toy and shoved it in Ryou's mouth. Ryou sucked on the head until it shined with spit, but didn't look at Seto.

He took the dong and dragged it along the tops of Marik's shoulders and then down his ribs. He didn't touch the scars on Marik's back, but anywhere else he teased. When he reached Marik's ass he dragged the toy around the gorgeous, copper curve of Marik's back side, using the cum tube to leak some white _dragon cum_ (lube) onto Marik's skin. He knew if he actually used it on Marik he'd have hell to pay- whether he won the game or not- but it was fun to watch Marik's skin ripple at the touch of silicon.

He took a normal, boring, four inch plug from his briefcase, coated it with lube, and inserted _that_ into Marik, saving the Royal Dragon for himself after the game. Marik bit into Ryou's shoulder to keep from calling out; Ryou called out for him. Seto continued to prod Marik's tight ass with the plug, reaching around with his other hand so he could stroke Ryou even as Marik fucked him.

"Marik! Marik! Marik!" Ryou started screaming when Seto touched him, trying his best to ignore Seto's hand, and at the same time using the sensation to rocket himself into orgasm.

Marik was suffering from the same dilemma, enjoying Seto's machinations, but trying not to hinge back into the plug because it, technically, didn't exist by the rules of the game, but Ryou started screaming louder as he lost control and came over Seto's hand. Half a moment later, Marik shouted out as well, coming inside of Ryou.

Seto used the mess on his hand to coat his Royal Dragon dong, easing the toy into himself as if he were the one ignoring his lovers. He was throbbing hard and eager to cum himself, too aroused by their game to hold back any longer.

Before he could get into the act, Marik's hands overshadowed his own, stealing the base of the toy away from Seto and beginning to fuck Seto with the toy. At the same time, Ryou grabbed Seto's shaft and wrapped his mouth just below the tip of Seto's cock.

"We won." Marik smirked, hair mussed and kohl smudged from sweat.

"Like hell," Seto panted, eyes lulled backwards in pleasure. "I made both of you cum."

"Did you? I believe it was my name Ryou called out."

"Wh-whatever. Argue later." Seto's eyes slid shut and he netted his fingers into Ryou's hair. Ryou had ended the argument by swirling his tongue along the bottom ridge of Seto's head and he couldn't bother with game technicalities at the moment.

He dug his heels into the mattress, hitching up into both Ryou's mouth and Marik's thrust.

"Let me know," Marik whispered, and Seto understood he wanted Seto to tell him when to use the cum tube to make the Royal _cum_ the remainder of the lube into Seto's body.

He allowed Marik to pound into him for a few minutes longer while Ryou slid a touch lower down Seto's shaft with his soft lips.

"N-now!" Seto pleaded.

The feeling was messy, and slick, and delightful as lube squirted inside him while the tip of the dong slammed into Seto's prostate. He came with the toy, screaming and pulling Ryou's hair hard enough that Ryou reached up and held Seto's hand, and then Seto was curled in on himself, spent, satisfied, and in a state of near hypnosis.

Ryou kissed Seto's face, ending with a few soft kisses on his lips. "Don't fall asleep yet, we have a bath ready."

Seto slit his eyes open, bright blue considering the two lovers in bed with him. Seto nodded, yawning and letting Ryou help him to his feet.


	35. Corporate Fractureshipping/ Maze Game/ (6-way)

Gravel kicked behind each step as Ryou ran. He knew the hedge maze rather well, but in the failing light, each verdant row looked like the last and he was getting lost. No matter, he couldn't stop, the Spirit who once inhabited the Ring was chasing him and he couldn't stop. He made a sharp right, finding the cultivated wild roses. That helped Ryou catch his bearings. He flew past the flowers, a few pastel petals scattering into the air, but Ryou didn't have time to appreciate the beauty of them.

He glanced at his watch, ten more minutes. If he could hold out for ten more minutes it'd be over.

From the shadows stepped a dark figure. Kek grabbed for Ryou, but he dodged, gritting his teeth. That was their trap from the start, Bakura herding Ryou into a dead end where Kek would capture him. He didn't think they'd work together like that, but that's what he got for making assumptions. An ornamental pear tree was Ryou's salvation. He scrabbled up the trunk and crawled across a branch that extended over the wall of the maze, allowing him to bypass the dead end. He heard Kek cursing him, and Ryou laughed into the darkening sky as he climbed back down using ivy vines.

Before Ryou could turn around and find his way out of the maze, a pair of hands covered his eyes. "Boo."

"Dammit," Ryou cursed under his breath.

"I suppose you're mine now."

The owner of the hands pulled Ryou against him. By the feeling of his chest and smugness of his tone Ryou knew it was Marik. Ryou reached behind him, grabbing Marik's hips and pulling their bodies close. "Let me go, Marik, and when it's your turn I'll owe you one."

"Mmmm," Marik purred. "Tempting, but I want to see the pissed off look on Bakura's face when I'm the one to bring you to base. He was rather sure he'd get you tonight."

Ryou twisted around so he could raise himself to his toes and kiss Marik. He slipped his hands beneath Marik's shirt, pinching his nipples as they kissed. "Okay," Ryou said between kisses. "You win."

And then he pushed himself away from Marik and ran. Marik growled, no less frustrated than his darker half, but Ryou didn't turn to look back. He ran, ran, ran, through the ever-dimming maze. Only a few streaks of fiery orange remained in the sky now. He looked at his watch - two more minutes, and then they'd switch out, and then Ryou could play hunter instead of hunted.

And the end of the maze was in sight.

Ryou sprinted, a final dash to clear the round and own the bragging rights of not being caught for a night, but then the world swept away from Ryou as he felt himself shoot upward. Ryou looked around, trying to process the change. He was in a net, swinging in the air from the branch of a tall elm.

"Son of a bitch!" Ryou shouted. He'd lost. "Is this even legal?"

"Traps are fair play."

"Dammit, King, I was so close!"

The thief grinned up at Ryou, causing the scar on his cheek to bend like a crescent. "Don't worry, you'll still get to base - carried in my arms."

Ryou tried to untangle the net, trying to find a way down as King climbed up the tree. He used a knife to cut Ryou free, dropping him hard onto the ground.

"Ow! That hurt!" Ryou shouted louder than he needed to, hoping to sound convincing.

"Don't worry." King jumped down, scooping the net, and Ryou, up into his arms and carrying him bridal style out of the maze. "I'll kiss it better as soon as we're back to base."

Outside the maze he rang a bell, indicating the end of the round. He sat on a bench with Ryou in his lap and a grin on his face, waiting for the others to see him with his prize.

"Again, really?" Kek kicked a stone on the trail when he saw who'd won. "Isn't that the third time in a row?"

"I'm the best."

"You're a cheat." Bakura scowled. "The rest of us don't use traps."

King shrugged. "It's nothing you don't know how to do. Your problem is that you think you're more clever than a net."

"Yes, where as you know the net's a little more clever than you."

King merely kissed the crown of Ryou's head through the net and grinned. "But look who I get to fuck tonight as my reward?"

"Bakura, how you manage to argue with yourself always blows my mind." Marik rested his hand on his hip. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. He's caught, let's go ravish him." Marik looked around, narrowing his eyes. "Where's Seto?"

Everyone looked around; he was the only one not present.

"That bastard. I bet he's back at base."

"Base" was their code word for the bedroom. Base, throne room, game room, court, they had little codes depending on what game they played. Normally Seto visited them, but it was one of the rare occasions where business was slow enough to allow them to wreck the mansion, so they'd seized on the opportunity- that and the maze game was Ryou and Kek's favorite to play out of all the others.

Kek took Ryou from King's hands and slung Ryou over his shoulder. Ryou kicked a little. "Let me out of this net."

"No, leave him in the net," Marik said. "He can't pull off any tricks in the net."

Ryou made a mental note to steal one of Bakura's knives the next time they played. Had he been carrying one, he could have cut himself down and won. Not that anyone actually _lost_. It all ended as a great excuse for them to try and break Seto's bed (again), but the bragging rights of winning were always nice.

Inside the mansion, they found Seto laying in bed with a bathrobe around him and his laptop sitting on his lap.

"Seto Kaiba." Marik narrowed his eyes.

"Marik Ishtar," Seto echoed back at him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm working while the rest of you run around outside like idiots."

"Some fresh air wouldn't hurt you."

"I think he needs a penalty game." Bakura smirked.

"I agree." Marik nodded. "How do we punish him?"

"Give him a cock ring," Ryou suggested.

Kek snickered. "Give him a cock ring, and tie him up with Ryou so he can look but not touch."

Seto set his laptop aside. "We never established that-"

"Okay, it's settled," Marik interrupted him. "Bakura, pin him down."

Bakura lept onto the bed, slamming Seto against the mattress and holding his wrists above his head. Meanwhile, Marik searched through their novelty wardrobe for a double cock ring that held both around the balls and at the base of the shaft. "Let's use this one."

"Joke's on you." Ryou laughed. "He really likes that one."

"Does he now? Good because he's going to be in it for an hour."

While Bakura pinned Seto down, Marik bent down and sucked on Seto's dick until it was hard enough to trap into the cock ring. Meanwhile, Kek dropped Ryou on the bed next to Seto, and King cut the net away. Bakura ripped off Seto's robe as King and Kek tore away Ryou's clothes.

Both Ryou and Seto were positioned on their sides so that their erections could rub together. Marik used crimson silk rope to tie them together at the wrists while Bakura tied their waists together. Seto looked non-plussed, but Ryou was smiling, and licking his lips in anticipation.

A silence stretched between them as the others worked. Ryou knew why Seto was being quiet- with Seto in a _penalty game_ , anything he said would be ignored, and the more he begged, the more it would drive the others to make him desperate. They'd gotten Bakura to moan some amazing things in the past using similar tactics, but Seto was more tactful. He knew when to keep silent.

Ryou had to look up at Seto, since he was positioned much lower on the bed. "Hi."

"This is partly your fault."

"Misery loves company." Ryou hitched forward a bit, forcing their hard-ons to press together. "What's wrong? Don't you like being tied up with me?"

A slight grin broke Seto's serious face. He twisted his fingers together with Ryou and squeezed. "Perhaps I'm not exactly encouraged to change my actions in the future if this is punishment I get."

The other four were disrobing, bickering over positioning. Before a conclusion could be drawn, Kek jumped onto the bed, grabbing Seto around the waist. "Dibs!" He bit into Seto's shoulder as if to seal his right to fuck the CEO.

"And I caught the white rabbit." King plopped down beside Ryou and licked up his spine. Ryou arched and gasped, pressing into Seto again on reflex.

Marik and Bakura looked at each other, and then went to opposite sides of the bed. Marik lay next to King and Bakura lay next to Kek- neither having reached the point of wanting to technically fuck themselves.

They had two bottles of lube that they passed around. Marik was inside King and thrusting long before King finished prepping Ryou. It was awkward on their sides. King raised Ryou's top leg while Marik shifted his own body at a slant in order to get a better angle.

"King, don't tease," Ryou pleased, still being prepped.

Across from him, Kek was entering Seto, and watching Seto's eyes close in ecstasy ruined Ryou's patience. Bakura was taking his time, toying with Kek's hair and kissing his scars. He shifted to the very end of the bed, spreading Kek's ass cheeks apart and licking his asshole. The shock of Bakura's tongue made Kek thrust so hard that Seto pushed into Ryou.

"King, please," Ryou begged.

Behind him, King panted and moaned, trying to adjust to Marik's rapid thrusts. He pulled Ryou a little closer, adjusting a bit until he found a position in which he could penetrate without disrupting Marik's rhythm. Ryou groaned into Seto's chest. The pleasure shot up Ryou's spine. In a fit of desire, he bit Seto's nipple, sucking hard and making Seto give a loud, long grunt.

It was chaos on the king-sized bed. They barely fit, and the entire canopy frame shook as if it might collapse at any moment. They'd managed to break the bottom frame before, but never the canopy. Ryou wondered if it was their lucky night. Each time Kek or King slammed their hips forward, Ryou's erection ground against Seto's cock. Ryou tried swaying into it further, but he couldn't on his side while getting fucked by King. Nonetheless, each mild brush sent shivers through Ryou's groin and he started sighing out long, lust-filled moans even as the bed threatened to collapse.

"Ryou," Seto whispered.

Ryou's eyelashes fluttered open and he noticed Seto staring down at him. Seto's cheeks were flushed. Behind him Kek was going as fast and hard as Marik. Ryou knew Seto wanted more contact with Ryou, but their hands were tied and they couldn't touch each other. Ryou lavished kisses across Seto's chest, earning a soft moan.

Kek started muttering in what the other's teasingly called _tombspeak-_ the specific creole speech evolved from older forms of Egyptian and the current Colloquial Arabic- Marik shouted something back that sounded like a challenge, but Kek whined, and bit Seto's shoulder again, and came. He rolled on this back, gasping and Bakura slipped on top of him, finally entering.

Now Seto was left wanting and hard. He pushed harder against Ryou's cock. Ryou struggled against his bindings, wanting to grab Seto's ass, but the knots were too tight, and struggling only tightened them.

"M-Marik, you should switch sides," Ryou suggested.

"Seto should go outside once in awhile." Marik shot back.

Seto only snorted instead of replying.

"Admit it!" Bakura shouted, his breath short. "You just can't get enough of me- past or present!"

That was enough for Marik to slip out of King, and walk to the other side of the bed. He made a show of getting into Bakura's way as he tried to fuck Kek, before crawling behind Seto. Kek shouted several curses in tombspeak, and threw the bottle of lube at Marik. It only managed to graze Marik's shoulder, and then Marik used it on himself again before shoving his cock into Seto.

With their symmetry more balanced, Marik and King's thrusts were better timed and, in turn, Seto and Ryou were able to slide against each other more consistently.

"King," Ryou moaned the name. "Would you . . . could you add some lube to my cock?"

King chuckled behind Ryou, his breath hot against Ryou's ear. "I love hearing you say the word cock."

Ryou flushed, more so than he already was. "Please," he whispered.

King stopped thrusting long enough to drizzle cold lube onto Seto and Ryou's erections. He smoothed the gel over their cocks before he went back to ramming into Ryou. With the lube, he and Seto slid against each other, and Ryou's moans grew loud and deep. He leaned into Seto's chest, riding out the last few minutes of pleasure until his own orgasm swept up from low in his stomach and made Ryou tense and then sink into the mattress.

King used his knife to cut the rope binding Ryou and Seto as soon as Ryou finished.

"Hey, asshole, we're not done." Marik swore even as his hips continued to ram forward and back.

"Do whatever you want to Seto, but I caught Ryou and he's mine." King snorted as he rolled Ryou on his stomach and returned to their lovemaking. He leaned close, kissing Ryou's jawline and growling an old, old poem into Ryou's hair.

"Fine." Marik pulled out again.

He hoisted Seto to a half sitting position, propping him up against several pillows. Then Marik reached back, grabbing Bakura by the hair and tugging hard.

"What the fuck, Marik?" Bakura stopped his own thrusting to grab his hair.

"Get over here. I'm going to fuck you instead."

"Too bad. I'm busy."

"Who are you fooling? You know you'd rather be fucked by the original."

Bakura smirked, yanking his hair out of Marik's grasp. "Version 2.0 has its perks, you know."

Kek stuck his tongue out at Marik.

Bakura chuckled. "See what I mean?"

"Fine." Lavender fire flashed in Marik's eyes. He crawled down the bed until he was behind Bakura, who was still laying on top of Kek and was slowly shifting back and forth. Marik pressed Bakura down against Kek's chest, using one of the two bottles of lube to wet Bakura's asshole, but then slamming into him without preparation.

Bakura screamed, snarling and clawing at Kek's shoulders as if it were his fault instead of Marik's.

"By all means," Marik snorted as he began to thrust. "Continue fucking version 2.0."

"Marik," Seto growled, upset from being ignored.

"Work from your laptop now, Seto," Marik said.

From his position at the head of the bed, Seto laughed, enjoying the show despite his swollen cock. To Seto's left, Ryou and King still rocked back and forth, quicker than before. King grunted, closing his eyes and then giving Ryou a few last, hard pumps before settling down. Ryou kissed King's forehead three times before crawling out beneath him and towards Seto.

"Don't worry," Ryou reassured. "I won't let them forget you any longer."

"I knew you'd save me," Seto whispered.

Ryou crawled into Seto's lap and impaled himself. He didn't have any poetry, nor was he as good as swearing as Bakura, but Ryou kissed Seto's mouth as he started moving up and down. He kissed Seto's mouth as if it were a final goodbye, long, sweet, desperate drags of his lips against Seto's. Seto started whimpering, his cock angry-colored from the cock ring.

"Not yet," Ryou whispered. "You're last. I can't take the ring off until Bakura and Marik finished."

Even as Ryou said it, Bakura was screaming in climax, unable to last while sandwiched between Marik and his other half. King laughed as if Bakura were faint-hearted, but they'd all seen him act the same in the past.

After Bakura came, Kek scooted to the side so that Marik had more room. King slipped his arm around Kek's stomach, spooning against him as they watched the other two couples with sleepy, satisfied looks on their face.

Marik was breathing hard, his toes curling and uncurling. Knowing he was close, Ryou slipped up and freed Seto from the restraint of the cockring. Seto gasped, forcing himself to hold back until he heard Marik call out with his own orgasm. Then Seto grabbed Ryou's hips, rocking him fast over Seto's bulging cock until he, too, trembled and shouted as he finished last.

They all lay in a pile, trying to recover. Bakura blew air from between his lips. "Damn. I really thought we were going to wreck the bed this time."

"The way it was trembling, I did too," Ryou agreed.

"I had the frame reinforced." Seto grinned.

"Dammit, Kaiba, that's cheating." Bakura smacked the mattress in protest.

"We never established rules."

"Fuck it." Kek grinned. "Tomorrow we're going until it's coming down."

Seto gave them half a roll of his eyes. "You're welcome to try, but it won't break this time."

Ryou smiled, looking up at the canopy. "Game on."

* * *

*****If you're wondering what Kek and Marik were saying to each other when they were speaking in tombspeak- it was something along the line of Kek complaining that Bakura was too good using his tongue, and Marik gave him a snarky answer, and Kek called Marik out because he's no better when he's on the receiving end of a rim job. Whenever they say anything nice about Yami Bakura - it's always in tombspeak because they don't want him to know*****


	36. Thiefshipping/ Tech Support

Marik rested his arm on the back of his swivel chair, turning it 90 degrees to look at Bakura when he walked into the den that doubled as an office and a game room. "Hey, Bakura, you're a nerd, how do I change my computer background?"

"Right click, go to the personalize options, and then-"

"On second thought, just come over here and do it for me."

"Does it say IT on my shirt?"

"No?"

"Then kiss my ass. I'm not your personal computer technician."

"Bakura, you stay here rent free and eat all my food- get your ass over here and show me how to customize this."

"Fine." Bakura marched up to Marik, dropping into Marik's lap and shifting until he was comfortable.

"Bakura, what the fuck?"

"Well?" Bakura grinned, leaning against Marik's chest and making himself comfortable. "There are no other chairs nearby, and if this is anything like the first time I helped you on your computer, then we're going to be here for a while, so I might as well get comfortable."

Marik rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. Instead, he nodded at the computer screen. "So what's right-clicking?"

Bakura grabbed Marik's hand and placed it on top of the mouse. He slid his fingertip up and down Marik's finger with slow, suggestive strokes. "Take this finger right here?"

"Yeah?" Marik asked, his voice a little husky as he leaned closer into Bakura.

"And click the mouse, idiot."

Marik bucked up into Bakura's ass. "How do you expect me to learn anything when you're always being an asshole, Bakura? I can't help that I was literally under a rock for half my life."

"Which means you've had the other half of your life to learn how to right-click, Marik."

"One doesn't exactly need to right-click when they have a small army of mind slaves to act as personal secretaries."

"Well that's what you get for being a brat that let servants do everything for you." Bakura snorted, turning back to the screen. "Regardless, see where it says personalize?"

"Yes."

"Go there. Then backgrounds. Click here. And find a picture."

Marik leaned forward again so he could see. This time he wrapped his free arm around Bakura's waist. "I'm not sure which one I want. I'm just sick of looking at the default picture."

"Then scroll down to look at your options and quit hugging me."

"I'm not hugging you."

"Your arm is around me."

"Where else is it supposed to go? You're the asshole that plopped into my lap."

"Whatever, just pick a damn picture so I can go play Secret of Evermore."

"I don't like any of these pictures."

"Then get one from the internet."

"What about a picture of me? How do I take one?"

"This is why I don't like helping you, Marik. You turn every question into an hour long computer lesson."

Marik began to nuzzle against Bakura's spine. "Oh, but Bakura, you can't tell me this isn't at least a little fun." He gave his hips another playful hike against Bakura's backside.

Bakura smirked, swiveling and grinding down back against Marik. "I suppose one more question won't hurt." He continued to rock his hips down in slow drags, making sure he glided against Marik's crotch each time.

"So, click here . . . yeah, good, and that brings up your camera- ahh." Bakura gasped as Marik bucked back upward.

His fingers curled around Marik's mouse hand, no longer trying to direct it. His hips moved faster, trying to get as much contact as he could against his backside. On the screen their image mirrored back at them as the camera waited for them to take a picture, but Bakura wasn't paying attention to the computer screen.

Marik reached into Bakura's pants, sloppy, scraping his thumb nail against Bakura's belly as he searched for Bakura's swelling cock. He handled Bakura roughly, causing the other male to grunt and squirm on Marik's lap.

"Do you want more?" Marik growled against Bakura's shoulder blade, staring at their image on the screen.

Bakura stood up and dropped his pants to the floor. As Bakura threw his shirt up over his shoulders, Marik unbuckled his pants and dropped them down to his ankles. Bakura sat back down, facing Marik and grinding their cocks between their bellies. They met for a kiss, rough and without grace. Bakura bit Marik's bottom lip and Marik crammed his tongue into Bakura's mouth to stop him from biting.

Bakura reached back, fumbling around until his hand caught hold of the bottle of lotion Marik kept near his computer. He squeezed out a dollop of lotion onto their erections, enough to help them slide together, but not enough to ruin the friction. Marik smoothed the lotion into their skin and then stroked them both at once. Their cocks were statues of bronze and ivory in his hand. A glistening gem of precum welled from Bakura's tip as he held onto Marik's shoulders and used his hips to increase the friction between their cocks.

Marik bit into the side of Bakura's neck, as if to mark ownership. Bakura's grunts turned into desperate whines as soon as Marik's teeth struck Bakura's flesh. He tilted his head, bucking faster and coming hard enough to decorate Marik's copper chest with fat, white pearls. Marik wanted to slam Bakura on top of his own erection and fuck him until he screamed, but he was too caught up in the moment and lotion wouldn't be enough, so he released Bakura's spent cock and focused on his own. Bakura's hand fumbled between them, wrapping his fingers around Marik's hand and helping stroke him until Marik held his breath and tumbled over the edge.

Bakura sank against Marik's chest, his eyes fluttering shut and his face calm. Marik glanced at their image on the computer screen where the camera still watched them. It was a nice image, Bakura mussed up and falling asleep against Marik's chest. Marik reached out, clicking on the mouse and setting a timer for the photo. He leaned back, making sure his own hair was in place and still allowing Bakura to rest against him. The image of the screen froze as it took their picture. Marik edited it a touch, cropping the extra background and saving it in his photo album, before selecting it as his background.

Bakura opened a single eye. "I thought you didn't know what you were doing?"

Marik grinned. "Actually, Ryou gave me a tutorial a few weeks ago. He's a better teacher than you."

"Then why the fuck were you bugging me?"

"I knew you wouldn't pose for a picture if I simply asked."

"Jackass. That's the last time you're getting any kind of tech support from me." He stood up, yanking Marik to his feet as well.

"Where are we going?"

Bakura smirked. "The bedroom, of course. All that work wore me out and now I want a nap."


	37. Altershipping/ En Media Res

*****En Media Res means "In the Middle of Things" it's when a story starts in the middle of a the narrative action w/o initial setup or explanation (which is what this story does because I couldn't figure out how The Altershipping got started so I just plopped it at the beginning of the PWP) and then I realized that it was sort of a pun, so I went with it.*****

* * *

Ryou was trapped, gold and copper behind him and gold and copper before him. Both men pressed close to his back and chest, almost smothering him with proximity. Neither liked to share, and that made them greedy. Mariku, behind Ryou, had one fist wrapped in Ryou's hair while the other hand clenched Ryou's shoulder. Marik, in front of Ryou, twisted one of Ryou's nipples and clenched Ryou's hip.

Ryou loved the attention; he loved being overwhelmed by both at once. He relaxed in their grip, closed his eyes, and groaned as their hands fought over who touched him most. Marik upped the ante by seizing Ryou's mouth. Mariku met his challenge by biting into the nape of Ryou's neck. Ryou moaned into Marik's kiss, squirming but unable to move because of how tightly he was stuck between the two.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Marik whispered against Ryou's mouth.

Before Ryou could answer, Mariku licked up the shell of Ryou's ear. "Or do you want _me_ to fuck you?"

Ryou gasped for breath. "P-please . . . Marik- Mariku- please."

Marik petted Ryou's long hair. "Which one, Sweet?"

Ryou couldn't focus, his was aroused out of his mind and aching from balls to head. "Both. I want you both at once."

He could see Marik look up and glare over Ryou's shoulder, and he could imagine Mariku returning the glare with equivalent scorn, but neither would deny Ryou what he asked for. To say no would be to give the other a chance to seem the better lover, so they would indulge Ryou, even if that meant cooperating.

Marik grabbed a six inch dong, coating it with lube and slipping it straight into Ryou's backside. It was rough prep, but it'd make it easier on Ryou in the long run. While Ryou rode the dong, Mariku continued to bite his neck and shoulders, twisting both Ryou's nipples at once while Marik teased his fingers up and down Ryou's shaft and held the dong in place with his off hand.

After a few minutes, they switched to a foot long dong, adding as much lube as possible before Ryou slid down the toy. He huffed out a hard breath, taking his time to adjust to the girth of the toy before bobbing up and down on it. Marik held it with both hands and Mariku guided Ryou's hips. Ryou balled his hands into fists. He was so turned on that he wanted to stroke himself and come in Marik's mouth and down his chin, but he held back, knowing the dong was only the prelude.

"I'm ready." Ryou slid up, allowing Marik to pull the toy away.

They switched to a silver bottle of lube, a high-grade silicon variety that wasn't toy safe, but much slicker. Mariku slathered the gel over his cock, sitting at the foot of the bed. Ryou crawled off the bed and eased himself down on Mariku's length. Mariku lay back against the mattress and Ryou leaned back on his chest.

"Is your back okay?" Marik asked as he stood in front of them. It was always a point of mutual consideration between them, even when everything else was competition.

"Fine," Mariku growled, as if he had to prove that it didn't bother him.

"Get up on your forearms," Ryou suggested.

Mariku growled again.

"Better angle for me," Ryou said, defusing the moment.

Mariku tched, but he raised up on his forearms. Ryou gave him a purr of approval, a reward for complying. Then he looked at Marik and nodded.

Marik held Ryou's left leg up and out. He used a lube-drenched finger to press between Mariku's cock and Ryou's asshole, stretching Ryou further. He added a second finger and repeated the process, and then a third. Ryou puffed quick, short breaths. He tried to say Marik's name, but only managed a long _mmmmm_ of sound.

Marik took out his fingers and grabbed his cock. He gave It a few strokes, making sure he was as stiff as possible before pushing his way inside. The breath choked in Ryou's throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, mouth open in a silent scream. Marik held both of Ryou's legs out to give them both enough room. Mariku rocked up while Marik rocked forward.

Ryou felt like an atom being split to create a bomb. He forced a shaky breath into his lungs and then exhaled. He kept his eyes closed, overwhelmed by the sensation of being so full. Again, he wanted to plead and whine and beg to be stroked so he could come.

"Not yet," Marik said as if reading his thoughts. "It's too soon."

Ryou whimpered, in joy and in frustration as his cock twitched unattended against his belly.

"Not until we're close." Mariku laughed behind Ryou.

Ryou's eyes fluttered open. He stared at the ceiling, trying to process the wide, all-encompassing pleasure. "Fuck," he swore at the light fixture above him.

Ryou swallowed, his mouth dry. Both Marik and his other half were the perfect length for double penetration, long, long shafts guiding in and out of Ryou with enough room for both to maneuver. The knot of Marik's head rubbed right on Ryou's prostate because of the tight fit between the two men. Ryou almost blacked out from the jolts of pleasure stabbing him again, and again, and again, and it didn't stop, both men had considerable endurance, all Ryou had to do was relax and let the pleasure drive him fucking mad.

"Ready?" Mariku whispered in Ryou's ear.

"Aaaaah!"

"I think he's ready." Marik nodded, sweating from the physical effort. He slammed his hips forward, striking Ryou's prostate so hard that in challenged the line between pleasure and pain, and Ryou wanted _more_.

Mariku reached for Ryou's shaft and squeezed.

"Oh gods yes!" Ryou wailed the moment he felt the rough warmth of Mariku's calloused palms. "Yes . . . fuck . . . yes . . . fuck!"

Ryou's hair clung to him in sweat-dampened ribbons. He shuddered, his legs trembling, a low, final moan vibrated deep within his chest as he succumbed to a strong orgasm that seemed to stretch on far past anything he'd ever experienced before.

Ryou swooned, falling back against Mariku's chest. They both slammed harder into Ryou's body, faster, faster, faster, racing each other to their own satisfactions. Ryou felt Marik's nails dig into his thighs as Mariku's nails dug into his hips. Then it was over as all three of them gasped for air.

Mariku pulled Ryou up to the head of the bed, wrapping his arms around Ryou and nosing Ryou's back in affection. Ryou smiled. That's how it'd started with the three of them, Marik and Mariku fighting for affection which somehow ended with their clothes off. Marik crawled up to them, trying to act indifferent and laying faced away from Ryou. Ryou grabbed Marik and pulled him an inch closer so he could spoon Marik even as Mariku spooned Ryou.

"Am I too close to your back?" Ryou asked. He tried to keep his arms lower, around Marik's belly where he couldn't aggravate his scars.

Marik shook his head. "It's good."

Ryou huffed a muffled breath to acknowledge Marik's answer. As he fell asleep he thought that there was no other place he'd rather be than where he was, right in the middle of two warm, bronze-colored gods.


	38. Fetishshipping/ Narcissus

Bakura always trusted his gut. As a young thief in Egypt, his instincts had told him when to avoid guards and traps. Although, these days, his intuition was mostly used to wake from a dead sleep when Marik was having a nightmare so he could ease his lover back to sleep.

His eyes shot open. They didn't have to adjust because Marik always kept the light on. Bakura turned towards him, expecting Marik's copper brow to be furrowed in a nightmare, but Marik's face stayed serene as he lay on his side, keeping his back exposed to the open air and a light sheet instead of pressing it against the mattress. Bakura brushed golden bangs away from Marik's face and closed his eyes, trying to go back to sleep, but the nagging, _troubled_ feeling continued to gnaw at his chest.

Bakura slipped out of bed and left the room. Creeping down the hallway, he heard an angry growl coming from the other bedroom. Bakura stopped and listened at the door before entering. Marik had brought Bakura back from the Shadows with magic, but at a cost- his own darker half returned with Bakura. Marik had felt responsible for him, so he stayed in the spare bedroom, hiding in the shadowy corners, growling at anyone who tried to go near him, and stealing food at night so he could avoid being seen.

But Bakura trusted his instinct, so after a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside. The sheets were torn to rags and strewn about the room. Marik's darker self was tearing into a pillow with teeth and nails- feathers floated around him and landed in his wild hair.

Bakura noticed Marik's other half's eyes were red-rimmed. Perhaps from the feathers, but Bakura thought it was more than that. He'd seen Marik's eyes, the exact same lavender, look just so in the middle of the night after some old, faded memory rose up in his mind and tormented him as he tried to sleep.

Bakura walked up to Marik's shadowed-self, reaching out his hand. Marik's double noticed Bakura. He snarled and locked both of his hands onto Bakura's throat, staring at him. Bakura didn't respond. He stood lax, focusing all his attention on breathing despite the pressure on his windpipe. He stared at Marik's darker half for another moment, and then reached out his hand again, plucking a feather from one of the golden spikes. It was hard not to see Marik in the doppelganger's face. Marik tended to hide all the pain and rage he still felt, but Bakura had seen in when they were alone together, and he saw it now. He dropped the feather and rested his hand on the other's bronzed shoulder, just grazing to top scars with his pale fingertips.

Marik's double gasped and stepped away. He glared at Bakura, hating him, but Bakura was calm, silent, and grave as he walked back up to Marik's other half. He grabbed his arm and dragged him to the bed, laying them both down so that Bakura laid against the mattress and Marik's double lay on top of his chest. He smoothed his fingers along the scars, just as he always did for Marik after a nightmare.

The double growled, but it broke into a whine and then he was clutching Bakura, making small, shrill, broken noises against Bakura's chest. One of Bakura's hands stayed soothing the double's back while Bakura's other hand groomed the feathers out of the double's hair. It surprised Bakura, that the double's hair was as soft as Marik's despite the defiant spikes.

The door creaked, Bakura's crimson eyes darted to the entrance. He saw Marik and frowned. For some reason he felt as if he betrayed Marik, holding the shadow that once killed them, but it'd been raw instinct to do so.

Marik's expression was complex. He looked around and Bakura realized it was dark in the room except for the street light filtering through the broken blinds. A lamp sat on the nightstand near the bed, the shade was shredded but the bulb was intact so Bakura turned the light on, inviting Marik into the room.

He came and sat on the opposite side of the bed, looking at his other half still- not weeping- but near wheezing against Bakura's chest. Then he stared at Bakura. Bakura shrugged, shaking his head. Marik saw Bakura's fingers reading the scars like braille. He reached down himself, touching the wings of the Ra icon. His double flinched at the touch, as if it burned, but then settled and quieted, giving a soft exhale and a whimper as he fell back asleep.

Marik gave Bakura another look and Bakura returned it, as if neither of them knew what to do. Marik settled next to his double, his and Bakura's fingers dancing together, brushing together even as they brushed the scars that were Marik's but not Marik's.

They fell asleep like that, not knowing what else to do.

* * *

He awoke with an intake of breath, sharp, sudden, and painful. He didn't remember much about the night before except the dream where he wasn't able to kill the old man. He wasn't strong enough to hold the Rod, he wasn't strong enough to fight back, and he'd been cut and burned all over again, but that time it was his entire body carved with glyphs and not just his back. He'd sprung out of bed and tore at anything he saw, _needing_ to kill him again, _needing to kill him again!_ But he was dead, dead, murdered in the tomb he tried to trap Marik (them) in, and he couldn't kill his father again.

And then Bakura had sauntered into the room like the fucking bastard that he was, and he was going to kill the thief, had his hand nice and sweet on his windpipe, but then everything got blurry. He wasn't used to being touched, not touched like a human, but Bakura had held him like he always held Marik, and then Marik himself had joined, and it was . . . it was . . .

It was _confusing him_.

And now he lay awake in their embrace, Bakura's arm around him and Marik nuzzled between his shoulder blades, and he was confused.

The wind had been knives of ice during Battle City, invigorating, almost alive as it chilled him.

He'd burned them into the Shadows.

Marik hated him.

They were holding him now.

He could set the house on fire- burn them again without Shadow Magic there to ever save them- just dead Bakura and dead Marik in ashes.

But they were holding him now.

Why wasn't he looking for matches?

Because they were holding him now.

Why couldn't he kill them anymore? He felt like he'd lost to power to kill them.

Because they were _holding, holding, holding_ him sweetly like he was human.

It hurt. He liked to be hurt with a knife, but this was different, this was too much, too deep, too cruel and at the same time _coveted_.

He thoughts crashed, fragile waves against ancient stone craigs. His thoughts deconstructed to clear precise images. Night sky. Blimp. Duel. Flames. Bakura's hair flowing down his sleeping chest. The torn lampshade. A stray feather blowing in a little eddy of air conditioning current.

What _was_ he now?

Marik's other heart, but not Marik.

And would they let him stay like this or would they disappear back into their own room, leaving him alone to his own thoughts and shadows again?

His fingers dug into Bakura's white mane. "Don't . . . don't . . . don't."

The thief stirred, white eyelashes fluttering as they opened. Bakura glanced at him (who was he? He didn't know himself), and Bakura's fingers returned to the scars on his back, stroking in calming, even measures. "Go back to sleep." He shut his eyes as if it were so simple.

"I don't know who I am," he said. _He_ because he was nameless.

"Steal a name. That's what I did," Bakura answered, half asleep and nuzzling against the double's forehead where the Eye of Ra once glowed.

* * *

Marik woke up a little confused because he wasn't in his room and he was holding a body that wasn't Bakura's. When he opened his eyes, his own marred back greeted him and he remembered the night before.

"You have to clean this up. You can't just get pissed and destroy things anymore. That's not how people act."

Marik was a little started when the form beside him turned around so he could look at Marik. It was like looking into a mirror that lead to an alternate universe, and here was Marik and not Marik at the same time.

"And if I clean up the room then I'm acting like a person?"

"Uh . . . yeah?" Marik wasn't sure how to respond. The question seemed odd.

"And if I steal a name, and act like a person, you'll stay?"

Marik frowned, confused. "Stay?"

"Nevermind." He scrambled over Bakura to escape the bed and started grabbing and bunching up sections of shredded sheets.

"What the fuck, Marik," Bakura muttered when Marik's double crawled over him.

"I'm not Marik," he said. "I'm Kek. If I'm going to steal a name, it should be from a god, right?"

Marik shook his head. "I've never heard of that god."

"Old one." Bakura rubbed his face, forcing himself to wake up.

Marik stared down at his hands. "I'm sorry. I should have named you."

"Did you just apologize? You never apologize to me." Bakura snorted.

"Shut-up, Bakura."

"I don't want an apology," Kek muttered, trying to shove all the sheets into a small waste-bin and failing. "I want . . . I want . . ." He found he couldn't express himself, he didn't know enough about feelings to express his own. "I want you to stay."

"Stay _where_?" Marik asked. "Where do you think I'm going to go?"

"Back to your own room," Kek said.

Marik's brow furrowed. "What's wrong with my room?"

Kek fidgeted, twisting a strip of sheet into a rope. "I'll be here by myself again, and then I'll want to cut everything up again, I liked when . . . " he looked away, dropping the rope and pulling at a strip of hair. "He pulled a feather from my hair."

Marik shot a look to Bakura, wondering if Bakura understood a damn thing his other half was rambling about. Bakura smirked, raising a white eyebrow. "Come here, Kek."

"Why?"

"I think I missed a feather."

Kek started combing through his hair. Marik didn't see anything in it, but he knew Bakura was up to something so he stayed quiet. Kek growled, but walked up to Bakura. Bakura pulled him down to the bed. He crashed over Bakura and Marik both, then Bakura was running his fingers through Kek's hair with one hand and palming his chest with the other.

Kek's mouth dropped low. His cheeks blushed to a color that Marik didn't know their complexion could get to.

"Marik," Bakura said, glancing up even as he turned Marik's other half into a whimpering mess. "I think your other half is a little attention-starved."

Marik couldn't stop staring. There was something crude and arousing about watching Bakura toy with his mirror image. Marik would have _never_ acted so needy in bed, and watching his other self arch into Bakura's touch, and sigh, and blush was like watching a bizarre fantasy. Marik found himself reaching out and twisting Kek's nipple poking up from his bare chest.

Kek screamed in a way that Marik knew meant that he wanted more, and Marik _knew_ that's what the scream meant because it was the same scream Marik would have let out in the same situation. Marik continued to twist and tease Kek's nipple. Marik noticed Bakura's face growing flushed as well as he watched.

"Enjoying what you see, Bakura?" Marik smirked.

Bakura snapped out of the trance he'd slipped into. "Watching the two of you? Who wouldn't enjoy that?"

The smirk stayed on Marik's face. "Hey, Kek?"

"Hmmm?" He asked without words, still hyper aware of Marik's thumb and finger toying with his nipple.

"Want to give Bakura a show?"

He sat up, looking at Marik and then to Bakura and then back to Marik. "I . . . I can touch you?"

Marik slipped out of the sweatpants he used as sleepwear. "Anywhere you want."

Kek stared at Marik with a curious, longing look. "It's really okay? Anywhere? I can touch you like you touch Bakura?"

Marik answered by dragging his fingers down Kek's chest. Then Kek sprang forward, knocking Marik into the mattress and trying to have Marik all at once. His hands ran up and down Marik's body, grabbing at everything he could hold. His mouth began at Marik's lips and then traveled, neck, throat, chest, arms, everywhere, everywhere, and Marik never expected how into the thought of sleeping with himself was until he felt his own strength pressed against his body.

"N-not on my back," Marik stuttered, enjoying everything about the moment except the feeling of the mattress on his skin.

Kek cradled Marik into his arms, rubbing the irritation away from Marik's skin. He started nipping at the side of Marik's neck, and Marik glanced over to the side to see how Bakura was doing. He knelt in place, crimson eyes wide and mouth slack and he stared at them. Marik grabbed the back of Bakura's head and pulled him in to kiss him. His other half yanked Bakura by the hair to pull him away and do the same. Then they both had Bakura pinned down, throwing off his boxers, clawing at his thighs, leaving bruises along his ribs and chest from love bites.

Bakura struggled to sit up, held down by the weight of two advancing bodies. "Hold on . . . gimme a moment . . . I'll get the lube."

Marik let up, but Kek didn't seem to understand. He grabbed Bakura's hair and pinned his chest down to keep Bakura from getting up while sucking on his throat. Bakura's eyes rolled back and his face flushed. He didn't have the words to protest, so Marik decided to help out. He grabbed his former dark half by the hair and pulled him off of Bakura. Kek growled, but Marik shut him up by biting his top lip.

He seemed to melt from both the attention and mild pain of the bite. Bakura shook his head to collect himself and scurried out of the bed.

"Don't do anything too hot without me- I want to watch!" He called over his shoulder as he dashed out of the room.

But Marik didn't have much of a choice. The bite excited his other self, and no sooner had Bakura left the room then Kek grabbed Marik's cock and stroked it with rough, fast flicks of his wrist. It caught Marik off guard. His eyelashes twitched as he pressed his forehead against Kek's shoulder and moaned.

He could hear Bakura screaming before he even re-entered the room. "Dammit- that's exactly what I didn't want you doing without me!"

Marik moaned again in reply. He wasn't exactly in charge of the situation, which was a first for him in the bedroom. Normally he'd be pissed at the lack of control, but since he and his other half essentially shared a copy of the same body, Kek already knew exactly how Marik wanted to be touched, and Marik couldn't protest because he was too into it. He noticed the smirk on Bakura's face, however, and noticed that Bakura was taking mental notes of everything Kek did and how Marik reacted.

Bakura lay on the bed again. Kek shoved Marik down on top of Bakura so that Marik and Bakura faced each other. Bakura poured some lube into his hand and offered some to Kek. "Copy me," Bakura said before wiggling a finger into Marik's ass.

Marik gasped, realizing that Bakura was prepping him. It wasn't that he hadn't bottomed before- it was the sudden realization that he was about to let _his other half_ take him. He glanced over his shoulder. Kek's lavender eyes watched intently as Bakura prepped Marik, adding a second finger and then a third. Meanwhile, he prepped Bakura with the same careful attention that Bakura used to prep Marik. Marik closed his eyes for a moment, trying to process how he felt. His lower belly quivered, mostly from excitement and a little from nerves. He'd often fantasized about it- about fucking himself- he never thought he'd get such an odd chance to actually _do_ it, though. Somewhere in his head he knew he should be averse to the idea. It was vain and he didn't exactly have a good history with this half of himself, but at the same time he seemed like a good way to make a sort of odd piece with himself. Unconventional, perhaps, but the entire situation was unconventional.

Bakura pushed in a forth finger and Marik's brow furrowed. "Ah, Bakura?"

"Trust me," Bakura said, panting himself from getting fisted by Marik's other half. "You need to extra prep. He isn't me."

 _That_ made Marik's belly a little extra queasy, but Marik only smirked. "Well, you never seem to mind, so I'm sure I can handle it."

Bakura chuckled, kissing Marik's collarbone. "If you insist."

He pulled his hand away and Kek did the same to him. Marik situated himself inside Bakura first, and waiting for Kek to mimic him. However, unlike Marik, Kek had never done anything of the sort before. Even with the lube, he had some trouble pushing his way into Marik's body. Marik clenched his teeth and dug his nails into Bakura's shoulders.

Bakura, meanwhile, was still lacing soft kisses along Marik's collarbone and tracing the glyphs on Marik's back. With the calm, soothing way Bakura acted, Marik got the strong suspicion that he'd been just as awkward at first.

He gave Kek a moment to experiment, pulling out and jerking roughly back in. Marik focused on the feeling of Bakura's heat around him. He waited for Kek to prepare another clumsy thrust, and used the momentum to plunge into Bakura's body. Bakura purred, spreading his legs a little wider to give Marik more room.

Kek's rhythm was awkward, and it threw Marik off his usual beat.

"I . . . um . . ." his darkness stuttered, as if to apologize for his own inexperience.

"Faster!" Marik commanded him in a ruthless tone.

It worked. With an indignant snort, Kek slammed into Marik hard and clean. Marik's mouth opened in a wordless cry of pleasure from the proper thrust.

"More!"

 _Then_ they got a working rhythm going. Marik's body (and Kek's body) wasn't designed to go slow or careful in bed. It was a greedy, selfish, torrid form that needed someone like Bakura who thrived on rough treatment. And, at that moment, Bakura was shouting, and cursing, and praising them both all at once.

Marik swore he'd outlast his other half, but with Bakura writhing below him, Marik only lasted ten minutes before he was spilling everything he had into Bakura's body. As soon as Marik pulled out, Kek nudged him higher up Bakura's body, so he could take Marik's place.

Marik ground down against Bakura's erection even as Kek pounded into Bakura's ass. Marik grabbed two fistfulls of hair and yanked as hard as he could, bringing their faces centimeters apart. "How does it feel, Bakura? To be fucked by two of me?"

Kek snorted from behind, but all Bakura could do was call out broken syllables. Hearing Bakura wail made Marik wish he could fuck him all over again.

His double seemed to enjoy the sound as well. He squeezed his eyes shut, and twisted his mouth into a knot before muttering. "You need . . . to hurry . . . dammit . . ."

Marik gave Bakura a single kiss, hands still netted into his lush, white hair. "Hear that? We can't resist you, Bakura, better come fast before we have to finish you off by hand instead."

With that Marik ground against Bakura's erection with fast, light movements of his own body. He saw the lube lying beside them and squirted a dab onto Bakura's erection so he could slip over it more quickly. Bakura's face was red as crimson velvet, his mouth wide and begging for more. Then Marik felt the slick warmth spreading between their stomachs and he settled to a stop so he could drag slow, languid kisses from Bakura's compliant mouth. Behind them he heard Kek calling out as well. He curled in on himself afterward, staring at them as if he were afraid to touch them.

For the first time, Marik truly pitied his other half. He took his shadow's hand, coaxing him to lay down in between Bakura and Marik. His double seemed to have no trouble laying on his back, even drenched in sweat, so Marik settled him down and then he himself lay on his side. Bakura rolled over and snuggled with the closest body, which happened to be Kek's. Marik circled his fingers along Kek's temples, watching his face as he stared at the ceiling in thought.

Marik's other self glanced at him. "Are you going to stay?"

"For a while," Marik answered.

"What about tonight?"

"Our bed's bigger," Bakura muttered as he fell asleep.

"Don't worry." Marik chuckled at Kek's distressed look. "We'll leave the door open from now on."


	39. Stealshipping/ King of Thieves: vol 1

*****Somes notes: -This is actually part of the Gemshipping fic I posted called King of Thieves. In that story Ryou and TKB make an erotic graphic novel, this is the theoretical pilot episode. Don't ask me why I did it like that, it just seemed more fun to to an Ancient Egyptian au for this pairing.**

**Mehen = Marik**

**Menes = Y!Marik**

**iksu = mean thief**

**neb-i = my lord*****

* * *

The thief awoke with a low groan. He realized he was tied, both arms and wrists, and his head throbbed.

"Good, you're awake," A voice said above him.

He looked up and saw a man with long, golden hair and eyes brighter than blue lotus flowers.

"Can we kill him now, Mehen?" Another voice asked. The second man looked similar, only his hair rose in great beams like the rays of Ra instead of flowing down his shoulders.

"Wait, Menes, I want to question him." The first one knelt in front of the thief. "So, _iksu_ , are you going to cooperate?"

The thief feigned a vulnerable, gentle expression. "I'm thirsty," he said in a meek voice, trying to make his throat sound dry.

The first one, Mehen, smirked, grabbed a nearby jar and sipped from it. "Are you now?"

The thief made a display of licking his lips, noticing the way Mehen's eyes gleamed as he watched. The thief lowered his lids, allowing some of his messy, white bangs to fall into his strange-colored eyes. "Please . . ." he sighed out the word.

"No. No Mehen. Just kill him. He raided our caravan."

"What if he has accomplices?" Mehen asked. "We need to interrogate him, Menes." He lifted the jar to the thief's lips. "Drink, _iksu_."

The thief sighed against the lip of the jar. Keeping his eyes on Mehen, he brushed his bottom lip against the jar's edge as if he wanted to drink but couldn't manage it. "I'm too weak . . . let me drink it from your lips."

He expected a slap or another crack against his skull, but hey, can't blame a thief for trying. He didn't expect, however, for Mehen to pull a drink of wine into his mouth and then press his lips against the thief's lips. A surprised moan vibrated against their joined lips. The thief parted his lips and allowed wine to pour into his mouth. He was still in shock that his ridiculous plan had worked, but he wasn't going to argue with the one time the fates decided to favor him.

"Mehen, what are you doing?" Menes scowled. "Stop toying with the captive and ask your questions of him so we can dump his corpse into the desert."

"Menes, are you blind? Stow your dagger and come give this poor thief a drink. He is thirsty."

Menes glared at them out of the corner of his eyes, trying to avoid the full picture of them kneeling on various rugs inside their tent. He huffed out a loud, irritated breath, and marched over to them. He was not subtle or sneaky like Mehen, Menes took a large drink and near forced it into the thief's mouth, shoving his tongue in afterward. Most the wine dribbled down their chins, red like blood, but the thief didn't mind. He used his tongue in return, spreading his legs so they could glimpse at what was beneath his shenti. "They say to desire a male is a sin, but dominating your enemy is a whole separate matter."

Mehen snatched the thief's chin and drew their faces close. "Are you alone? Or do you have accomplices?"

The thief gave a dramatic sigh. "I've always been alone in the world. Look," he said, a little more serious. "I'm a thief, but I obviously picked the wrong caravan to raid. You caught me; I'm at your mercy." Technically he wasn't because he could always summon Diabound, but he was having too much fun to mention that. "You can kill me, but wouldn't it be more fun to teach me a rough lesson and then send me on my way?" He fluttered silvery lashes at the two men. "I'll give you my word that I'll never steal from either of you again."

"For all that a thief's word is worth." Menes snorted, wiping excess wine from his chin. "And I'm not sure your tiny body could withstand one of my lessons."

"Ha!" The thief threw his head back to laugh, a little more of his natural personality filtering through his timid act. "This body can take _anything_ you can dish out- both of you- at once- I dare you!"

Mehen raised an eyebrow. "Well, Menes, I believe he gave us a challenge. Will you back down from it?"

Menes ground his teeth, his cheeks bright-colored from anger. He tugged the shenti off of his own waist. "Get the oil."

Mehen looked delighted at the statement. The thief's own belly looped with anticipation. Both the amethyst-eyed males were tall, lean, toned, and more beautiful that the Nile at sunrise. His cock stood tall like a crane at just the thought of them taking him. Mehen used oil to coat his hand and prepare the thief. He winced a little as fingers pushed into his ass, but he appreciated the preparation- he'd need it once the event began.

"Could I have some more wine?" he asked, his need for it more sincere than the first time.

Menes smirked. "What? Your words were so bold, and now you want to be drunk?"

"Not drunk," the thief corrected, "relaxed."

"Menes, you cried your first time. Give the man some wine."

Menes glared at Mehen as he put the jar up to the thief's lips, this time the thief drank on his own. "Because you used spit instead of oil," Menes said.

Mehen gave him a sheepish look. "Well, I didn't know any better back then."

"My first time went much the same," the thief laughed, remembering the awkward, fumbling experience between himself and a farmer's son that had snuck food to him in exchange to touch him.

The other one had been almost black from working the fields under the sun, and his arms were big and the thief had liked the way they held him, so he'd told the other to do more than touch. The memory sent a pleasant shiver up the thief's spine. Despite the awkwardness and discomfort, it had been a very good night for the thief.

"How will we share him?" Mehen asked.

"Make him take it like a dog."

"That's all good and well, but we need to situate it in a way where we can both get to him." Mehen cut the rope binding the thief's arms, but kept him tied at the wrists. He wrapped the thief's arms around his neck, moving his golden hair out of the way. "It'd be hard for you to escape like this," Mehen teased.

" _Neb-i_ , why would I escape this?" the thief meant the statement to be confident and a little defiant, but it came out a whisper as he stared at Mehen's lips. He wanted them more than he'd ever wanted treasure.

Mehen smiled, leaning in and giving the thief the kisses he'd wished for.

They could hear Menes complaining in the background. "We're going to fuck him like a dog, not love him like a first-night's bride."

"But look at him." Mehen grinned. "He's more beautiful than any of the brides that we've ever seen."

"He's more beautiful than the whores we've fucked as well. Get him started or I'll fuck him myself while you kiss like fools."

Mehen shrugged as if he had no more choice in the matter. He guided the thief into his lap and impaled him onto his own cock. The thief muffled a small cry of pleasure. He liked the position, sitting in Mehen's lap with his bound wrists wrapped around him, but it only lasted a few minutes before Mehen lay on his back, pulling the thief down with him so that the thief's ass faced the top of the tent.

"About time," Menes growled, slamming in all at once.

The addition made the thief squeeze his arms more tightly around Mehen's neck.

"Still up for this?" Mehen nipped at the thief's earlobe as he asked the question.

The thief seized Mehen's mouth in a sloppy kiss. "Don't- you dare- hold back, _ahhh_. . . you stupid bastards."

Mehen nodded, picking up the pace of his upward thrusts. The thief's mouth stayed wide open, gasping for air, unable to swallow. Menes slammed, again and again, into the thief, making the thief scream like a jackal. It was like being stabbed by two long spears at once. The thief's thighs trembled and he leaned most of his body weight on Mehen's chest. Each stab pierced into the thief's body and filled him more so than he'd ever been filled before. He bit into Mehen's shoulder to muffle his own screams, but it did little to mute him.

Menes cried out on his own when he came. Then he tore himself away, dropped down to the rugs, and closed his eyes with a satisfied expression on his face. "Mmmmm . . . maybe we should keep this thief as a pet instead of kill him. I wouldn't mind fucking him again."

"Yeah," Mehen sat up, returning he and the thief to their original position with the thief sitting in Mehen's lap. "What do you say, thief? Want to be a concubine?"

The thief barked laughter even as he rocked in Mehen's lap, dizzy with pleasure. "Concubine? Fancy yourselves kings?"

"We are kings. The trade routes are our kingdom. You trespassed in our domain, and that's why you're in this predicament, _iksu_."

"Lucky me." The thief started angling so that his cock rubbed against Mehen's belly. He couldn't stroke himself with bound wrists, but Mehen noticed and used his oil-slick hand to knead the thief's cock.

The thief buried his face into Mehen's shoulder. He was too close for further banter. Their breaths fought in each other's ears, arousing them further. They came both at once. Afterward, Mehen lay down beside Menes, the thief still draped over his body.

"I'm keeping you," Mehen said. "I'll feed you pomegranates from far away places, and honey, and figs. You'll have plush rugs to sleep on, and you'll never cut your feet on another dessert stone. I will pamper you."

"Sounds nice. I could get used to that life" The thief grinned. It was a nice daydream, to be pampered like a cat, to be taken every night by beautiful, rich men, but the thief knew that wasn't his life. It was too nice for him, and he had revenge to obtain.

He waited until Mehen's breathing slowed before slipping his arms away from Mehen's neck and untying himself. He dressed back into his shenti and then knelt down and held Mehen's face, bending down to taste his lips one last time. "It really would be nice." He sighed, standing up.

He looked around, wanting a souvenir to remind him of the night. He saw a fine crimson cloak laying on top of a chest. He examined it. It smelled of Mehen, and the thief inhaled deeply into the fabric before wrapping it over his scarred shoulders. He gave his two lovers one last, long, lingering glance. "You may be the Kings of the Trade Route, but I'm the King of Thieves, and I have too much to do to be some beautiful men's pet."

With that he snuck out of the tent, allowing the desert to embrace him in his lovers' absence.


	40. Candleshipping

Seto knew he was in trouble when he walked into the bedroom. Ryou stood, leaning against the bedpost, with his arms crossed over his chest.

Seto sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Look, I know this the third night in a row I've been late, but I don't have time tonight, either."

"You need to rest," Ryou said.

Seto snorted. "I definitely don't have time for that."

Bakura, leaning against the other bedpost, clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Did you hear that, _yadonushi_ , I think Kaiba is using a tone with you."

Ryou glanced at Bakura, raising an eyebrow.

Bakura smirked. "Would you like me to punish him, _yadonushi_?"

"Hmmmm … perhaps a penalty game will remind him why we made this arrangement," Ryou agreed.

"I appreciate this, but I'm busy." Seto sighed, days of fatigue showing on his face.

"You can work in the morning," Ryou said, and then he glanced at Bakura.

Bakura sauntered towards Seto, wrapping Seto's tie around his fist and yanking Seto close. His breath washed over Seto's lips. "Penalty Game," Bakura whispered, pulling on Seto's bottom lip with his mouth.

Seto grabbed Bakura's shoulders. "I want to," he moaned, "but I have to read a report."

"I'll read it to you at breakfast," Ryou said. "Tonight you're being punished for ignoring me."

As Ryou spoke, Bakura continued to kiss Seto. He yanked the CEO by his tie and pulled him towards the bed, shoving Seto down on the mattress.

Seto held his breath for the uncertain moment after his feet left the floor and before his back hit the bed. As soon as he lay against the duvet Bakura was straddled over him, clawing the tie, jacket, and shirt off of Seto's body. He was too tired to struggle, too tired and too aroused by the way Bakura grabbed at him while Ryou stood and watched. Bakura grabbed Seto's wrist. He drew his tongue along the delicate, blue veins beneath Seto's pale skin. Bakura's lips pressed against Seto's pulse point and then dragged down his arm. He nipped the underside of Seto's elbow, biting his way up Seto's bicep and to the bend of his neck and shoulder.

"Take off his pants," Ryou instructed.

Bakura brandished a karambit and used the hook-like blade to turn Seto's four hundred dollar belt into scrap leather for their tabletop RPGs. The pants were pulled down and discarded in a heap near the bed.

"Undress," Ryou said.

Seto watched Bakura rip off his own clothes, and out of the corner of his eye, Ryou undressed at his leasure. Seto's closed his eyes when Bakura started biting at his chest. He felt the bed shift, and he knew it was Ryou preparing to join in. Seto's stomach looped into his gut.

"Well?" Ryou asked Bakura. "What should we do with him, Bakura?"

Bakura straightened up and turned around, grabbing Ryou by the hair to pull him close and whisper in his ear. Ryou smiled, cheeks lighting up with a hint of pink.

"You're so filthy, Bakura."

Bakura shrugged and Ryou ran his tongue along the outline of Bakura's lips. "So?" Bakura asked.

"Yes. Let's do it."

Bakura straddled Seto again, only this time he faced away from Seto. He grabbed Seto's calves and lifted his legs up into the air. Ryou tied Seto's ankles with peacock-blue strands of silk rope, connecting the rope to the canopy frame so that Seto's legs stayed splayed wide up in the air.

Bakura smirked. "Ready . . ."

Ryou mirrored the action. "Set . . ."

"Go-"

With Bakura's signal they both dived towards Seto, Bakura swallowing his cock as Ryou began licking Seto's ass.

Suddenly, Seto wasn't tired anymore.

His body jerked on reflex the second their mouths were on him. He bucked towards their lips, calling out.

Bakura popped up from Seto's rock-hard shaft. "Thinking about work now, Boss?"

Seto whimpered at the loss of Bakura's mouth, refusing to satisfy his sarcasm with a valid answer, but Bakura didn't seem to expect a reply. He sealed his lips at the base of Seto's cock and pulled up to the tip, slamming back down to the base just before his lips reached the head.

Seto dug his nails into the duvet. His chest rising and falling with short, quick movements. "Ryou . . ."

"Hmmm?" Ryou hummed, his lips pressed against Seto's entrance.

"You, you could . . . "

Bakura jerked back up. "Quit being timid and say it. You want him to fuck you. You want him to pound your ass so hard that you see stars and pass out for three days afterward- say it."

"F-fuck me . . ." Seto whispered, wanting more than Ryou's tongue inside him.

Ryou stared kissing Seto's thighs. "I don't know . . . you don't sound as convincing as Bakura. Maybe we should just finish you now and let you go to sleep. Don't you have a report to read in the morning?"

"Ryou," Seto whined. "I don't want to cum yet. Fuck me. Fuck me now. I want your cock, _aaaaah_ -"

He screamed Bakura started to swirl his tongue.

"Cut him down," Ryou said to Bakura.

Bakura kept swirling his tongue for a moment, then pulled away in order to use the karambit to sever Seto's binds. His legs dropped to the mattress. No one bothered untying him, so the ropes stayed around his ankles like jewelry. He flipped over, sticking his ass in the air while glaring at Bakura. "Come here."

"Why should I?"

"Because I want to return the favor."

Bakura rose up to his knees, grabbing Seto's hair. "Do you?"

Seto glanced up with artic blue eyes, nodding.

"Badly?"

Seto smirked. Meanwhile, Ryou brought lube and was behind Seto, prepping him. The feeling of fingers slipping into him made Seto's groin ache with sweet, swelling pressure. "What don't you shove it in my mouth and see how badly I want to suck it."

Hand still in Seto's hair, Bakura traced the tip of his cock around Seto's lips before shoving into Seto's mouth. Bakura gave a low growl as he moved his hips back and forth, running his fingers across the blush on Seto's cheeks.

Then Ryou slammed into Seto's ass and Seto's eyes rolled back from the sensation. His jaw slacked as he moaned around Bakura's cock. Bakura snapped in front of Seto's face, calling his attention back to the task at hand. Seto tried to swallow, but he couldn't with Bakura's girth in his mouth. He pulled back, licking his lips and then slipping back down Bakura's shaft. The harder Ryou slammed into him, the deeper he took Bakura into his mouth. Each thrust made Seto crave more. He took Bakura so deep that he could feel the head of Bakura's white cock slam into the back of his throat even as Ryou slammed into his prostate.

Bakura's breath became stunted. His hips jerked forward. The grip in Seto's hair became tight. Seto held his breath so he could swallow the thick, hot mess of Bakura's spunk. Bakura folded down onto his own legs. He looked like Seto felt- flushed bright coral, mouth slack, eyes lidded and unfocused.

"I want to come," Seto begged, looking up at Bakura's unfocused face. "Please- please Bakura- t-touch . . . me." Seto closed his eyes and lowered his face, frustrated with himself about begging but he couldn't help it. Ryou had himself stuffed to the hilt into Seto's ass and long, yearning stabs of ecstasy tore through his body with each jerk of Ryou's hips, and he needed it. Then, there, _now_ \- he needed it- even if he had to beg. "Bakura!"

"Go ahead," Ryou panted from behind them.

"Not _quite_ yet. This is a penalty game, remeber?" Bakura grabbed Seto's chin with his thumb and pointer finger and held him in place to be kissed.

Seto moaned into the kiss, loud. Bakura used the crumbled tie still on the bed to wipe the saliva off of Seto's chin, and then he sucked on Seto's bottom lip. Seto whined and moaned and whimpered through each kiss. He jerked his hips back to meet Ryou's forward pulses.

His cock was crimson and leaking with want, so when Bakura finally wrapped his fingers around the thick, hot shaft, Seto began to scream.

"Fuck! Yes! Fuck! Just . . . like . . . fuuuck- gods!" He came over the duvet in several long arcs of white.

Ryou smacked Seto's ass twice, digging his fingers into Seto's hips. "You want this?"

"Yes," Seto moaned, spent and struggling to keep himself upright so that Ryou could finish.

Ryou slapped his ass again. "Is it good?"

"Yes!" Seto shouted, anticipating Ryou's oncoming orgasm. "Ryou!"

Ryou make a cute gasping sound as he pumped a few last times. He pulled out and sat onto the bed."Come here."

Seto crawled into Ryou's lap, kissing him for the first time that evening. Ryou brushed his fingers through Seto's hair. "You have to take care of yourself."

"I do," Seto said out of reflex.

"Seto Kaiba you know better than that. Now, you're going to sleep, right here and now, in my arms. In the morning you're eating breakfast. We'll read the report out loud to you and you can dictate any notes. Tomorrow you're coming home for dinner."

"Or what, you'll punish me again?" Seto grinned, more interested in the sleepy kisses that Ryou gave him than their conversation. Nearby, Bakura pretended like he was asleep, but Seto knew he was listening to them.

"Mmmm . . . ask me that again the next time you're begging to come," Ryou said as he slipped the rope-anklets off of Seto's feet.

Seto looked away, remembering his words. "I'll be home. The meetings end just after noon."

Ryou snorted, knowing better. "We'll expect you just in time for a cold dinner, then."

He pulled Seto down, slipping them beneath the duvet stained from their love making. Ryou curled up against Seto's chest, and although Bakura feigned sleep, he, too, wrapped an arm around Seto, lacing his fingers with Ryou and thereby knotting the three of them together.


	41. Prideshipping/ College au

Yami sat at the edge of the computer desk, leaning over to block Seto's view of the monitor. "Hey, Seto? What does Pot of Greed do?"

"Fuck you, that's not even funny."

Yami laughed, straightening up and running a hand through his hair. "I'm bored. Let's play."

"Do you see me? Sitting here? At this computer? This essay is 20% of my grade- I don't have time to play a card game with you."

Yami snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "There's always time for card games."

"Get off my desk and go do your own homework."

Yami snorted. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. It's not like the game would last longer than ten minutes anyway- as quickly as I destroyed your ass last time we played."

Seto jumped to his feet, knocking his chair to the floor and slamming his hands against his desk. "Get your cards, asshole!"

Yami grinned. "That's the fighting spirit."

Seto followed Yami to his bedroom. They both sat on his bed and organized their decks. It didn't take long before Seto realized he was going to lose again. He didn't blame himself. Atem always made sure Seto was flustered before a game before they played, picking times Seto was busy, harassing him, arguing before they began. How was Seto suppose to think clearly under such circumstances?

But he had an idea of how to even the playing field. Seto shifted, stretching his long legs out on the mattress. His toe bumped into Yami's foot. He pretended he didn't notice, but Seto kept bumping their big toes together at random intervals.

"Stop it," Yami said while placing a card face down.

"Stop what?"

"Your foot."

Seto skimmed his toe along the top of Yami's foot. "What? Does that bother you?"

Yami gave him a knowing smile. "Maybe if we weren't in the middle of a game I wouldn't mind it so much."

"Not confident enough in your skills?"

Yami raised his eyes up above his cards. "Two can play this game."

"Naturally. It's a two player game."

"Very well. I end my turn. Go."

Seto glanced at his own cards. Yami teased Seto's calf with his own foot but it looked funny with his shorter legs. Still, a pleasant shiver tingled up Seto's leg from the sensation of skin brushing skin.

They kept scooting closer. It would be subtle if they didn't both know what they were doing. By the time they stopped, their arms were pressed together and their cards were sideways since they no longer sat on opposite sides. Yami leaned against Seto's shoulder, and Seto used Yami's next turn to nuzzle into Yami's wild hair. When his nose accidentally brushed Yami's earlobe and he sucked in a sharp breath, Seto realized he may have been losing the card game, but he was winning their distraction game.

Seto stopped looking at his cards altogether. He spent all his time brushing his nose along the shell of Yami's ear and down to the nape of his neck. Yami's breath grew quick. Seto could tell he struggled to keep quiet. Seto ghosted his lips in that sweet spot between ear and jaw and Yami's cards were dropped into the middle of their game.

He grabbed the front of Seto's shirt and pulled them together until their mouths clashed. Seto dropped his cards on top of Yami's so he could reach up and trace his fingers through the tri-colored hair.

Yami lunged into Seto's lap, flinging his own shirt to the floor before reconnecting their mouths. Chest bare, Seto couldn't help but glide his fingers along the exposed skin. When Yami clawed Seto's shirt off of his body and pressed him into the mattress, Seto realized his plan was going far better than he'd originally planned.

The tension between them had been building since they went from friends with a healthy sense of rivalry to roommates. Yami was obsessed with beating Seto in game after game after game, and while Seto loved the challenge, he was beginning to wonder if this is what they'd been after the entire time.

Yami pressed their bodies together. His kisses growing quick and sloppy as he dragged their bodies back and forth. The friction was nice, but their jeans dulled the thrilled. Seto fumbled with his belt, fingers clumsy as kisses and bucking drew his attention to his entire body instead of the task at hand. He finally managed, and Seto shimmied out of his pants.

Yami seemed to agree with Seto's idea, stripping his own pants in a quick, smooth motion. He returned to grinding against Seto's crotch. This time there was only the material of their boxers between them, silk and cotton doing little to hide the firm bulge of their erections and they rubbed together. Seto grunted as Yami bucked hard. He grabbed his roommate's ass, squeezing and tugging in order for them to press harder together.

Yami started to groan, face growing pink as he continued to jerk his hips back and forth. Seto watched as long as he could, but his eyes slammed shut as a rush of pleasure swept up and demanded Seto's full attention. He expanded, rising, climbing, pulled Seto to orgasm. He slipped his hand in his pants and pressed against his perineum so he could enjoy his orgasm without the mess of ejaculation- a trick learned while maturbating.

Finished, he pulled his hand away from his boxers and slipped it within Yami's. It was a little odd, feeling a cock that wasn't his, but also exciting and Seto began stroking with all the enthusiasm that he ever gave himself. He toyed his thumb against the slit of Yami's head, slipping higher and smoothing precum around Yami's tip. His roommate hissed, too close and sensitive to have so much attention given to the head of his cock. Seto slipped lower, focusing on squeezing and jerking Yami's shaft. Yami clung to Seto's shoulders and released a long, low moan, coming into his boxers and over Seto's hand. After it was over, he glanced up Seto with a mix of sheepishness and pride because of the mess he'd made.

Seto snorted, slipping his hand out of Yami's boxers and licking the back of his hand clean to show that he didn't really mind.

Yami sighed, resting his head on Seto's chest, still lying on top of him. Seto sighed, knowing they should sort their mixed cards, knowing Yami should change shorts, knowing he should finish his essay . . . but closed his eyes instead, resting one hand on Yami's back while the other pulled a cover around them. Perhaps he'd write better after a nap anyway.


	42. Necroshipping/ Strand of Pearls

Bakura smacked the top of the metal safe. "Told you. No problem for the two if us."

A crooked slash of a grin curled around Kek's mouth, showing teeth. "But can you open it?"

Ryou winked at him, an angelic smile on his face. "Give me twenty minutes."

Kek loosened his red, satin tie, tugging it around his neck. "I'll be in the next room."

Bakura leaned against the safe, watching Ryou. "Twenty minutes?"

Ryou's smile grew. "Watch if you want."

Bakura gave him a slight purr. "You know I love to watch."

Ryou chuckled, tying his hair back into a knot. He pressed his ear just above the dial on the safe's door, listening as he turned it right and left. Seventeen minutes later, the safe door swung over and Ryou grinned.

"Show off." Bakura snorted. He peered into the safe and frowned. "The fuck? Where's the cash? The jewels?"

Ryou reached into the safe and pulled out a single envelope, staring at both the front and the back.

"Oi!" Bakura shouted into the next room. "Mind telling us why we risked our lives and axed half of the Mutou gang just for a piece of paper?"

Kek appeared in the doorway, covered in shadows, white teeth flashing as he grinned. "That piece of paper is the deed to The Kame Gaming Industry. Whoever owns KGI- owns the Mutous."

Bakura laughed, loud enough to shake his slender frame. "And now they work for us."

Kek nodded. His hair resembled talons reaching up into the dark. "And now they work for us, unless they want to be destitute."

"It's for the best, really." Ryou stood up, dusting himself off. "Two gangs running the city would end in tragedy. We'd kill each other off until we were both so weak that a new group would bury all of us."

"And we sure as hell would never compromise a merger- too much bad blood already. This can only end in one group devouring the other."

"Aren't you afraid they'll retaliate?" Bakura fluffed up his hair, slipping off his coat jacket and unfastening his cufflinks.

Kek shrugged. "There'll be decent, of course, but I think if we're strategic about where we place them, in time, they'll realize this is best for everyone."

He beckoned them further into the suite and they followed. Ryou handed him the envelope and Kek disappeared into a private room to secure it. When he returned, he led them to the bathroom. A hot tub sized bath waiting for them. White ribbons of steam rose from the water and orchid blossoms drifted in lazy circles.

"I don't mind the scent of blood on my lovers, but I know you find it distasteful." Kek kissed Ryou's hand and walked out.

Ryou sighed, staring at the flowers dancing on the water's surface. "Do you ever think it's wrong?" he asked as he undressed. "To intimidate others, to steal from them, to murder them without a second of hesitation, and yet, somehow . . . be so utterly happy?"

"No. It's nature."

"You would say that." Ryou closed his eyes and moaned as he stepped into the hot water.

Bakura joined him. Their white hair floated on the water's surface, pale nets that caught stray orchids as they floated by. He leaned back, closing his eyes and relaxing as Ryou methodically cleansed himself to make sure every last drop of blood left his skin. When Ryou was done, he washed Bakura's body as well, crawling into his lap so he could run soapy hands across Bakura's chest.

He opened his eyes and stared at Ryou. His hands found Ryou's waist beneath the water and he pulled them close. Ryou hovered his lips above Bakura's. "Boss won't be happy if we start without him."

Bakura smirked. "Want to do something a little different tonight?"

Kek sat in a chair beside the king-sized bed. Across the duvet lay an array of jewels and golden trinkets. Movement from down the hall drew his attention. Looking up, Kek noticed his two angels of death walking towards him. They were bathed and dry, hair flowing down their backs as they walked. Each wore heels and nylons, garters and half-corsets. Ryou had chosen black. Black stilettos, and garters, his corset had black and grey pinstripes with embroidered roses. Bakura had chosen scarlet. His nylons were black, contrasting with the blood-like red flowing over his body.

"This works. I was thinking about dressing you up myself." Kek gestured to the stolen trinkets on the bed.

A quick, hungry grinned flashed in Bakura's eyes. He started grabbing things that caught his eye and slipping them on, multiple rings and chains and anything that featured rubies. Ryou was more selective. He wore an anklet, and a belly chain that landed just below his navel. Among the bracelets and brooches glimmering in the hotel lighting, Ryou found a fine mesh net secured with diamonds. When he draped the net over his head, the threads disappeared, leaving his hair sparkling with small, clear jewels.

"Beautiful," Kek purred as he watched them pick out their payment for their latest heist.

"Glad you think so, because we decided that tonight you only get to watch." Ryou flashed a demure smile. "Neither of us will touch you, no matter how much you demand it."

Bakura reached for the baby oil on top of the nightstand and tossed it to Kek. "Have fun alone, bastard."

Kek caught the bottle one-handed and set it aside. He took his glass of champagne and sipped. "Only watch, huh?"

Ryou gave him a mock pout. "I'm afraid so."

"But don't worry." Bakura blew him a kiss. "You're still our boss. That means you get to delegate."

Kek licked his lips, crossing his legs. "Do I?"

Bakura shoved the last of the jewelry to the floor. The pieces dropped without sound into the carpet. Ryou crawled onto the bed, watching Kek with large, brown eyes. Kek stared at him, drinking more champagne. "Admire each other. Go slow."

They both shifted until they were kneeling on the mattress and facing each other. They reached out, touching each other's jewelry. Ryou toyed with the bracelets around Bakura's wrist while Bakura tugged at a chain around Ryou's neck in order to pull them closer. They stared at each other, lips close but never touching.

"Kiss," Kek said.

They bridged the gap between them. Their tongues met first, glancing and then stretching to go into the other's mouth.

"Deeper," Kek ordered.

Ryou grabbed Bakura's shoulders and leaned closer.

"Grab his balls, Ryou."

He knew better than to order Bakura around too much. On the job he was obedient enough, but the bedroom was a different matter. Ryou, on the other hand, loved to both command and be commanded. His hand dragged down Bakura's body and slid between his legs until Bakura started growling through their kisses.

Kek removed his tie and undid the top buttons of his shirt, making himself more comfortable. He watched their bodies writhe together as they made out. Their kisses grew sloppy; their hands grabbed for whatever flesh they could hold.

"Grab his throat, Ryou."

Ryou lunged at Bakura, knocking him back into the mattress and wrapping his white hands around Bakura's white throat. Bakura dug his fingers into Ryou's wrists, bruising the delicate skin. Bakura didn't complain, but his eyelashes fluttered and his chest started to rise and fall in rapid succession as he worked hard to pull breath into his lungs.

"Kiss him again," Kek said, working on his belt.

Ryou smashed their mouths together.

"Bite." He pulled his pants off, giving himself access to his own cock.

Ryou bit and tugged at Bakura's bottom lip until a small threat of blood rolled down the side of Bakura's chin.

"Nipples," Kek's breath hitched as he grabbed himself.

Ryou let go of Bakura's throat, pinching each nipple. Bakura gasped and sputtered and moaned.

"Fuck him. Bend him over the side of the bed so I can watch your ass dance as you work," Kek half-growled, half purred at the thought of Ryou's round, perfect ass clenching in the height of orgasm.

Ryou shifted off of the bed, getting lube. Bakura rested on his forearms, heeled feet hanging off of the edge of the mattress. Ryou stood, adjusting Bakura's hips closer before shoving his cock into Bakura's ass. Bakura grunted as Ryou started to move. The heels and garter kept Ryou's leg and ass muscles flexed, bringing out the fine details in Ryou's body for Kek to admire. He stroked himself in time to Ryou's thrusts. When he felt himself climb too high, he told Ryou to slow down, so he could slow himself down, edging himself just out of orgasm's reach.

"Slower . . . slower . . . good, Ryou good, make him suffer."

Bakura started growling. "Let him fuck me you bastard!"

Kek hummed, relishing the throbbing ache of hovering too close for too long. "He _is_ fucking you, Bakura."

Ryou gave a few hard, but still slow, jerks of his hips to agree with Kek.

"Ryou, make me come or or I swear I will fuck your throat with my switchblade!"

Ryou carded his fingers through Bakura's hair and yanked backwards, making Bakura's head snap up as he called out. "You won't hurt me. You'd miss this."

"Ryou . . . Ry- dammit just grab my cock already!"

"Boss?" Ryou asked, still focusing on his slow pace and tugging at Bakura's hair.

Kek was already speeding up himself. Bakura getting desperate always turned Kek on. "Y-yeah, yeah, _fuck yes_ , make him beg for it, though . . ."

"Oh fuck you!" Bakura snarled. "Can't I just get off without- _oh fuck, Ryou!_ " Bakura shouted when Ryou went from slow, controlled thrusts to quick, sloppy banging that made their skin clap together.

"Bakura . . . just beg, or I'll come and you'll be left fucking yourself." Ryou's voice was softer than a whisper.

Bakura could tell by the haphazard way Ryou slammed into his ass that it wasn't a threat. He bit his lip, holding out for a stubborn moment before a whimper broke him. "No, don't come yet. Make me come first! Please Ryou! I want to come with your cock inside me!"

Kek roared as _he_ stood and then came at the sound of Bakura's words, decorating Ryou's back with a strand of pearls.

Ryou lifted his right knee up to the mattress beside Bakura so he could lean over and stroke him. Bakura hissed from the contact, Ryou's strokes were hard and rough, and it was almost too much, but he rode it out until his cock was dripping come onto the sheets as Ryou cried with his own climax.

Ryou chuckled, trying to turn his head and glancing at his back. "I need another shower."

Kek grinned, leaning forward and licking the bottom-most pearl off of Ryou's tailbone. "If you must, but I rather like you drenched in jewels and pearls."


	43. Shadow Game/ Trashipping/ Corporate Fractureshipping

*****IMPORTANT FYI: I've already mentioned this on Tumblr, but I'm having to close down the Lemonade Stand as far as new prompts go (which means if you're still waiting for one that's in queue don't worry - it's still in queue). I simply have too many and it's making it impossible for me to work on longer, more detailed fics. If you haven't made a request yet, I'll be accepting prompts up until April 3rd. Thanks to everyone who's read these and put in requests :) *****

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Disclaimer: Shadow tentacles in the first half (but they're consensual shadow tentacles. Cardiac Crisis (you can check her page out on Tumblr) and I headcanon that Yami Marik would feel really comfy and safe and happy surrounded by creepy dark tendrils).

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Bakura circled his way around Kek. They were in Bakura's soul room, their bodies asleep in bed. Kek was looking up at him with a sharp, lilac stare and a jagged grin. Bakura had Kek locked down on his knees with half a dozen shadow tendrils holding him in place. Additional tendrils kept Kek's arms stretched out wide, as if to embrace Bakura, and still more twined through Kek's hair, keeping his head pulled back.

"Can't get up, can you?" Bakura smirked.

"I won't be tied up forever, and when I'm free I'm going to make you scream."

"Good luck." Bakura gave a sniff.

A tentacle wrapped around Kek's throat, squeezing just enough. Bakura watched the sharp, crisp look in Kek's eyes grow hazy in anticipation. Gooseflesh puckered Kek's golden skin as several tendrils drew lazy paths across his toned flesh. Bakura had two of the smaller ones tease Kek's hard nipples, while another one twisted around Kek's balls and shaft like a cockring made of living, moving darkness.

A whimper slipped from Kek's mouth as a wisp of shadow caressed his face. Only Bakura wholly understood Kek's need for darkness. Ryou came close with ropes, and whips, and meticulously thought out scenes of dominance and submission, but the fact remained that something within Kek always had, and would, crave simple, pure darkness, the kind that Bakura was never able to completely purge from his own soul, even when Ryou and Marik had brought him back from the Shadows and convinced him to give living a try over vengeance.

One of the black tentacles teased up and down Kek's thigh, soft, slow, almost loving.

"Ready?" Bakura asked, although he knew the answer.

"Fuck." Kek clenched his teeth, squirming from all the little touches to his body, thigh, stomach, nipples, throat, face. "Hurry up."

That was all the consent Bakura needed. He crammed a thicker tentacle down Kek's throat. Saliva leaked from the corner of Kek's mouth as he tried to swallow as much of the darkness as he could. A robust, hearty blush was already flaring up across Kek's cheeks. A strange mix of relaxed and eager fought over his expression.

Bakura narrowed one of his shadow tendrils to the width of a finger and slipped it up Kek's ass. Kek jerked, trying to buck down against the intrusion, but Bakura had him trapped so Kek couldn't press any deeper.

Bakura felt inside Kek, the sensation similar to Bakura having an actual finger inside of his lover. He found Kek's prostate and tickled the gland until Kek was moaning against the tentacle in his mouth. Bakura expanded the tendril in Kek's ass, two fingers thick, three. Bakura shifted the energy he used, shaping the tendril like fat, bulging annal beads.

Bakura felt Kek bite at the tendril in his mouth. It sent a shiver down Bakura's spine, as if his throat had been bitten. He thickened the tentacle in Kek's ass, as thick as he could make it while slamming repeatedly against Kek's prostate. Kek's cock was a throbbing red-violet, head weeping and veins pulsing. Bakura dropped to his knees and licked up Kek's shaft.

Kek screamed, the noise muffled by the tendril filling his mouth. Nevertheless it was a beautiful noise that went straight to Bakura's own cock. Bakura really wanted Kek's fat, leaking cock ramming inside his ass in the same way the shadow tendril was fucking Kek, but Bakura held back his own desire and focused on Kek, fucking him without mercy, teasing Kek's shaft with the tip of his tongue, but keeping the stimulation just light enough to prevent Kek from cumming.

Kek was a sight to behold. Muscles taut, cheeks the color of a rare steak, eyes bright and lost, nipples perking up above his chest, and ass cheeks rippling from the slap-slap-slap of the tentacle fucking in and out of Kek's stretched hole. Bakura sighed, breath ghosting across Kek's erection. He pulled the tentacle from Kek's mouth, using the spit-slick end to tease Kek's nipples and leaving a glistening trail across Kek's chest. He shoved the tendril back into Kek's mouth, getting it good and wet, and then pulled it out again to wrap around Kek's cock. Kek roared in pleasure, struggling against his bindings, but Bakura was too strong in his soul room.

Then Bakura was thrown back into his own body, conscious once again. He groaned, missing the feeling of dozens of shadowy fingers caressing and fucking his lover, but a new sensation compensated Bakura for his loss - that of cold lube dripping down his own hard cock.

"I wasn't done with you," Bakura grunted to prevent himself from moaning.

Kek growled, not in the mood for conversation. "I want it now," he snarled as he aligned his asshole with Bakura's slick cock.

He slid down. The friction and heat made Bakura buck higher and scream in pleasure.

"Don't you morons ever sleep." Seto rubbed his face, trying to wake up.

"Fuck yes." Marik pushed himself to a sitting position, eyes trained on both Bakura and Kek. "Bakura, when he's done with you I'm going to fuck you senseless."

Marik's words always made Bakura's stomach hitch. The combination of the soul room foreplay, and Kek's surprise mounting, and Marik's dirty words made Bakura cum far too soon.

"Dammit, Marik." Kek gasped for breath, riding out the last of Bakura's erection. "I wasn't ready for him to cum yet."

Marik only smirked, looking pleased with himself. Kek didn't see the other thief sneak up behind him, hugging Kek around the waist and biting the nape of Kek's neck. "Why waste your time with the copy when you can have the original?" King whispered into Kek's ear.

Kek nodded, and King grabbed the lube, pulling Kek into his lap. Kek was stretched and ready to go, but Marik had to prep Bakura before they could begin. While Kek slipped down on King's shaft and Marik scissored Bakura with two long fingers, Seto had begun the arduous task of waking Ryou.

They had let Ryou sleep through the action once- and only once. Ryou had been furious, going on cooking strike for a week and forcing them to eat store-bought sushi and take-out until they'd played the calming game with Ryou for an entire weekend, sating him again and again and cuddling and stroking his hair in between.

Now they made sure someone always woke him. Seto was smothering Ryou's face and neck with gentle kisses, Ryou cooed from the affection, leaning towards it, but still asleep.

Marik was in Bakura, pounding into Bakura's prostate with the same vigor and ferocity Bakura had used on Kek in his soul room, and now it was Bakura's turn to blush and drool as he was fucked senseless on top of a custom mattress made big enough for all six of them.

Kek was in similar shape. He rode King like the thief was a chariot, using his silvery hair as reins. Bakura wished he could summon his shadows in the waking world so he could stroke him, but as it was, Bakura couldn't move from Marik's wild bucking.

Seto dropped down, slipping Ryou's erection in his mouth and sucking hard until Ryou's cock was a thick, white pillar. Ryou moaned, and sighed, his hair scattered across the mattress. His eyelashes finally fluttered open. " _Oh Seto, yes_!"

Seto grunted approval, but didn't take his mouth away from Ryou's cock.

Kek started to growl and snarl like a beast. King stroked Kek's cock, humming and whispering against Kek's collarbone. "Do it."

Kek and Marik screamed at the same time, spurred on by the sounds of each other's bed play and Ryou's soft, pretty moans. After Kek came, King laid back on the bed so Kek could continue to ride him until King could orgasm as well.

Marik chuckled, crawling on all fours like a cat until he was hovering over Seto. Marik grabbed Seto's chestnut hair and forced Seto's head to bob faster. "Suck him right, Kaiba. Nice and deep like Bakura does it."

Ryou's soft sounds became louder. His nails dug into the sheets. Bakura crawled over as well, sucking on one of Ryou's frosting-pink nipples.

Kek and King glanced over at them, watching and allowing the sight to excite them. Kek started moving faster.

"Nggh, bastard . . .I'm so so close to cumming," King whispered.

Ryou dug his heels into the mattress, hips floating up and down so he could reach the back of Seto's throat. Marik continued to guide Seto, and Bakura continued to kiss Ryou.

"Fuck . . . that's . . ." the compliment lost itself in the middle of King's orgasm.

Kek fell on King's chest, curling into a ball. King held him, and stroked his hair, and whispered teasing little compliments into Kek's ear.

"Come in his mouth, Ryou," Marik ordered. "He's doing it just how you like it- deep and wet- reward him."

"Marik, fuck, Marik!" Ryou swore out Marik's name although it was Seto's mouth drawing him closer.

"You know you want to cum, Little Moon," King teased from nearby, still holding Kek and caressing the sweat away from the scars on Kek's back.

Ryou wailed, grabbing Bakura's hair with one hand, and Marik hand- wrapped in Seto's hair- with his other hand. He helped push Seto's head deeper for a few last pumps before sinking back down into the mattress.

Marik pulled Seto up, holding Seto's arms behind his back. Bakura straddled Ryou, but faced Marik and Seto. He leaned down, taking Seto's cock, tall as he was, in his own mouth.

Marik nippled along the shell of Seto's ear, whispering. "See what a good job he does? Nice and deep, lips tight, throat warm and wet. You never want it to stop, but at the same time it's so good that it makes you want to shove your entire cock straight up his ass."

Bakura moaned around Seto's shaft, enjoying the praise that Marik gave as Bakura sucked and bobbed his head. Ryou sat up, hair falling in messy wisps around his face. Bakura had to stop a moment so Ryou could move, but then he returned to sucking. Ryou, meanwhile, situated himself next to Seto, turning Seto's face and kissing him even as Marik continued to suck on Seto's earlobe.

"Thanks for waking me up," Ryou whispered, and all Seto could do was sigh against Ryou's lips.

Ryou and Marik took turns kissing Seto, and Bakura sucked on Seto's cock until Seto was spent and panting in their triple embrace.

Ryou smiled. He and Marik had Bakura and Seto trapped in a sandwich. "That was good. Wake me up like that in the morning and I'll make pancakes for breakfast."

"I want pancakes," Kek muttered from his place on King's chest.

"Then it's your job to wake up Ryou," Bakura said.

Kek snorted. "My pleasure."

After that they all settled into a tired, satisfied silence. The crickets chirped outside, several nightlights made Kek and Marik's hair glow gold, and all of them were happy.


	44. Deathshipping/ Prostitute AU

*****The original prompt was for Bakura and Ryou to both be exotice dancers and be thiefshipping and deathshipping, but after His Favorite Toy I'm just all stripper!Bakura'd out. So I hope this simplified deathshipping drabble is good enough for the prompter.*****

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Mariku watched the show onstage, several burlesque dancers with feathered fans as props. There was one in particular, a white creature with white-feathered fans, that caught Mariku's attention. His face and frame were androgynous, borderline feminine, and the more Mariku watched, the more he wanted the pale white dancer.

After the show, he spoke with the facility's manager, exchanged a large sum of money, and went to a specific room upstairs. When he opened the door, the delicate, porcelain creature already lay naked on the bed and waiting for Mariku, but Mariku didn't like like the vacant stare he gave the ceiling. He had until 10am tomorrow morning to fix the unenthused expression.

"Do you like sweets?" He asked, walking towards the bed.

The male turned his head to look at Mariku. The rest of his body stayed still.

Mariku raised up a box he held in his last hand. "Cream puffs, someone gave them to me before the show, but I'm not really hungry."

Mariku's purchased bed-mate eyed the box with a mix of longing and distrust. Mariku sat on the bed and opened the box, revealing half a dozen pastries. "They're not drugged," he said, taking one at random and biting into it to demonstrate.

He sat up, eyes focused on the desserts. His hand waivered for a moment, but then plunged into the box as if it were a steel trap, plucking a puffed pastry from the others and bringing it to his mouth. He took a huge bite, as if he'd never eaten before. His eyes fluttered shut and he sighed, and then licked cream from his lips.

"They're my favorite, but we're not allowed sweets. It'd ruin our figure."

Mariku frowned, watching the way the other male's ribs showed. "You could afford an extra ten pounds without hurting your figure."

He shook his head no. "They want us to look like the models in the magazines."

"Eat another one."

He shook his head. "I really can't. I'd get in trouble."

"I'll tell them it's my kink, watching you eat them. You're supposed to indulge me right?"

"U-up to a point," the answer came cautious and guarded from his bed-mate's lips, as if he expected them to be flung back at him at a later time.

"Then eat them. I want to watch you."

"O-okay." He grabbed a second pastry. It was fun to watch his pink tongue dart out to steal a taste of cream before he bit into the entire pastry.

"What's your name?"

"Ryou."

"Hello, Ryou, I'm-"

"Please don't-" Ryou interrupted. "I don't like to learn names."

"Then how do you know what to call out?"

"I'll just call you honey." Ryou gave Mariku a flirty smile. "Because your hair is gold and you're so sweet."

"I don't like to be flattered. You don't think I'm sweet. I see the fear in your eyes."

Ryou looked away. "No, sir-"

"-Mariku."

"Y-yes, M-mariku."

Mariku flashed a tooth-filled grin. "How do you know I'm dangerous? And I expect an honest answer."

Ryou sighed, frowning. "Anyone that can afford me until morning instead of renting me out for an hour has the kind of money that can only be earned through crime."

"That's true. I'm a hitman." He winked at Ryou. "But I'm on vacation."

Ryou stared at the sheets. "I can't really judge what you do … considering what I do."

Mariku set the empty box aside and scooted closer. "And I would never think to judge what we do. Everyone does what they need to in order to survive and there's no guilt in that." He traced the dark circles beneath Ryou's eyes. "You don't sleep much, do you?"

Ryou shrugged, offering a slight smile. "Job keeps me up at night."

Marik pulled them both down onto the mattress and wrapped them up in the duvet.

"Are we going to fuck now?" Ryou asked.

"No. We're going to take a nap first. I've been jet lagged and I need to rest."

"Oh … um ... would you like a blowjob to help you sleep?"

He was trying to seduce Ryou, go slow until Ryou was pining for him. He was too vain to sleep with uninterested lovers. By the time he fucked Ryou, he wanted Ryou to be clawing at his back and screaming- not staring at the ceiling.

But the thought of a blow job was too tempting. "Yes."

Ryou lowered himself down the bed, going straight for Mariku's cock without foreplay. It was a little off-putting for Mariku, the businesslike way Ryou did his job. Other escorts feigned interest at the very least, but there was an honestly in Ryou that made his motivations too clear- he was doing his job, and that was all. Mariku worried that he wouldn't finish, but Ryou was experienced, and went deep and sucked hard and five minutes later, Mariku was tangling his fingers into Ryou's soft, white hair and screaming out his name while coming.

The moment he was done, he lunged for Ryou, grabbing him and slamming him down into the mattress. Ryou screamed, frightened by Mariku's sudden, aggressive movement.

"Don't worry, Ryou. I won't hurt you much," Mariku said as he kissed his way down, and then back up, Ryou's body

"They told you that bruises cost extra, right?"

"Yes," Mariku snarled. "I got your list of rules I don't care- I"ll pay."

Ryou's eyes widened in terror, and Mariku wondered what kind of bruises men usually paid for when then ruined his perfect white skin. Mariku himself was fond of violence, but that was business, and this was pleasure, so he had a different sort of bruising in mind. He went to Ryou's throat and began to suck. Ryou whimpered at first, expecting something else, but as soon as he realized Mariku wasn't going to hurt him, Ryou started to moan.

Mariku suspected that this was the first hickey anyone was ever willing to give him, his other lovers either not wanting to spend the money or use it for less pleasurable markings. Mariku took a moment to admire the purple mark before finding a new patch of swan-throat to claim. By the third one, Ryou was clawing at Mariku's shoulders, just as Mariku had wanted. _He_ liked pain in bed, scratches and bites. Every scrape against his skin sent a pleasant hum against each one of Mariku's nerves.

He grew eager, dropping down to Ryou's chest and biting at his nipples. Ryou enjoyed that as well, and his nails dug deeper into Mariku's skin. Mariku continued down Ryou's body, alternating between huge, lush kisses against Ryou's skin and nips of teeth. He swallowed Ryou's cock down to the base, moaning in pleasure himself- Ryou was screaming.

Mariku had intendent on returning the blow job, then going to sleep for a few hours before sex, but Ryou's screams had Mariku aching to be fucked. He pulled away from Ryou and pulled him into a sitting position, crawling in Ryou's lap. Mariku kissed Ryou's lips as he lined his asshole up with the head of Ryou's cock.

Ryou gasped, eyes huge and brown. "I-I-I've never-"

"They usually fuck you, huh?" Marik asked, easing down on Ryou's erection. There was lube, but Mariku didn't want it. He liked the pain and the burning of being stretched and filled all at once, but it was a little too tight a squeeze. Ryou was surprisingly thick and, in the end, Mariku had to reach over to the dresser and use some gel to smear over Ryou's cock before he managed to get it to fit all the way inside him.

They both groaned, and clawed at each others backs as Marik began to ride Ryou as if he were an angry, white bull trying to buck off a passenger.

" _Ah! Oooooh! Mariku!_ " Ryou screamed up against the ceiling several minutes after they began.

"Shit," Mariku swore as he settled down.

Ryou leaned against Mariku's chest, completely exhausted. Marik pet his white, white hair. "Want to come with me? I travel all over the world. Sometimes I have to leave for assignments, but you'd never have to work another day in your life."

Ryou smiled. "That's a nice fantasy."

"I didn't intend it as pillow talk. I'm asking you if you'd like to leave this place."

"And be your personal whore?"

"And be my lover."

"You'd get bored and throw me out on the streets in six months, or kill me."

"I don't kill for free, nor do I tire of things I like."

Ryou gave Mariku a frightened look, as if he had just realized Mariku was serious. "But … why me?"

Mariku shrugged. "Because you're the one I want. I don't have a good reason."

A slight blush crept across Ryou's cheeks, and Mariku suspected that it was the first time, just like with the hickies. He looked back up at Mariku, and this time his eyes were less afraid. "Okay."


	45. Tendershipping

*****Oooopsie. I meant to write all the Lemonade prompts in order, but I read a Tendershipping fic, and then I had to *write* some Tendershipping, so I skipped down to #19 my list which was for really sweet Tendershipping where "if Bakura tops he's nervous about it"*****

* * *

The bag fell from Ryou's hand. There the other stood- just as he last stood- all skin and bones and wearing a black trench coat that should have been stowed in Ryou's closet. Ryou himself had gained ten pounds since the final Shadow RPG, since the spirit lost and they took the Ring away while Ryou was unconscious, so he looked rounder in the face, still slender but softer than his doppleganger. Then again, he'd always looked a little softer even when they shared the same body. It was in his posture and his smile and the way he reached out to rest a hand on his friend's' shoulders when they needed support. The other had always stayed back, arms crossed over his chest, every nuance of body language a warning for others to stay away.

Ryou trembled, staring at the other. "You're back."

He shrugged, looking away. "I said I would be."

"Yes, but you're such a liar that I thought …" tears welled up in Ryou's eyes. "I thought …" they spilt down the soft curves of his cheekbones and he ran to the former spirit, clutching him. "I thought you were gone!"

They stood at equal height, though the spikes on the hair of the one who called himself Bakura gave the illusion that he was taller. He side glanced at Ryou, stiff and unfamiliar in Ryou's hold with arms at his sides. "Why are you crying?"

"If you have to ask, then you're an idiot." Ryou sniffed, still sobbing and still gripping him tightly.

"You're the idiot for crying."

"Then we're both idiots."

"I still don't understand why-"

"Because I love you!" Ryou used Bakura's hair to mute the shout.

Bakura's eyes grew wide, desperate for escape. His body tensed in Ryou's grip and he held his breath. "You can't."

"I can."

" _You can't_."

" _I can_."

"Why? Why would you?"

"Because I want to."

"That's not a reason."

"How would you know? Have you ever loved anyone?"

His face twisted as if Ryou plunged a dagger into his ribs. "I honestly don't know."

"Then you can't say that it's not a reason."

Bakura's hand twitched. After a minute of silent crying from Ryou, Bakura broke away enough so that he could raise his right hand and wipe the tears away from Ryou's cheeks. "Don't."

Ryou snorted, giggling a little as his tears slowed. "Don't what? Love you? Hug you? Cry?"

Bakura smirked. "Yes."

"You asshole." Ryou laughed a little more.

Bakura used the hem of his shirt to finish drying Ryou's eyes. Ryou leaned into the fabric. When he looked at Bakura again, his eyes were bright from the shed tears, like an apache tear held up to sunlight. Bakura's eyes lowered and he leaned closer to Ryou's face. Ryou's eyes closed completely. He tilted his head and parted his lips, a angel-soft sigh escaping from his opened mouth.

Bakura turned away right before their lips touched. His expression crashed into itself. "You can't because I'm horrible. I'm no good."

Ryou cupped Bakura's cheek in his hand, guiding his face back so that their breath washed over each other's lips. "Are you going to keep my name?"

"I … can't remember-"

"Then listen to me, Bakura, and- just this once- don't argue." Ryou raised on his toes so he could press a single, gentle kiss on Bakura's forehead. "I. Love. You." He lowered back down to his feet, speaking close to Bakura's mouth again. "Because I want to. I know damn well how awful you are, but it's over, and you lost. The Pharaoh's gone, but you're not, and I'm not. I'm right here. What are you going to do?"

Bakura closed his eyes. Three tears slipped down his cheeks. "I don't know," he spoke in a high, broken pitch, his breaths staggering and labored.

"What do you want?"

Bakura shook his head. "I don't know. I can't. I can't. It's been too long. I've never-"

"Loved? Haven't you? What about your village?"

"I can't remember anything from back then!"

And then Bakura was the one sobbing and clutching onto Ryou's shirt as he pressed their foreheads together. And Ryou was the one to bring the hem of his shirt up to Bakura's face to wipe the tears away until his cheeks were dry although puffy and red.

"Do you remember that night in my Soul Room? That last night?"

Bakura nodded, flushed crimson darkening his pallid cheeks.

A sad smile graced Ryou's lips. "I thought I was saying goodbye to you that night."

"I told you I'd come back."

"And I know you're a liar." Ryou used his fingers instead of his shirt to brush Bakura's cheeks. "Why did you keep your promise?"

Bakura blinked as if he didn't know the answer. "Because … I ... had to."

"Why?"

"I said I would."

"What benefit do you get from coming back?"

Bakura growled, his flush switching from something resembling romance to a more familiar anger. "You! You're the benefit!"

"Oh?" Ryou smiled. He looked smug in a way his friends wouldn't recognize, but Bakura recognized the look. It was the same look Ryou had worn after their first RPG. It was the look Ryou wore when he knew he had won. "And don't you think that means something?"

Bakura pulled away, pacing. "I don't know."

"Do you not?"

Bakura snarled, leaning towards Ryou but staying out of arm's reach. "If you're expecting me to echo it back to you then-"

"No." Ryou shook his head, still smiling, even giggling a bit. "No. I didn't want you to say it. I know you can't say it. Maybe one day, but not today and not tomorrow and probably not a year from now, either. I wanted you to _think_ about it." Ryou closed the gap between them, standing close but not touching. "I was always there, in the back of your mind, your white shadow, the _ka_ you lost the first time you died. I already _know_ how you feel- better than you do. Everything you shoved to the back? That's what I felt the strongest. The anger … the hate … those were always so far away."

Bakura turned away, walking towards the hallway and stopping to lean against the wall. "I don't know what to do. I've hated for too long."

Ryou walked up behind him, touching his fingertips to Bakura's shoulder. "What do you _want_?"

Bakura shook, clenching his fists, clenching his jaw. In a flash of movement he spun, grabbing Ryou's face. "You! But I'm afraid I'll shatter you!"

Ryou smiled again, raising up his scarred, left hand and dragging it down Bakura's cheek so that he could feel the rugged texture. "I've shattered my own soul once, remember?"

Bakura grabbed Ryou's left hand, staring at the knot of white rising from softer, smoother skin. "Because of me."

"But I'm still here. We're both here. Together."

Bakura frowned, running his thumb over Ryou's scar. "What do I do?"

"What you're most afraid to do."

Still shaking, Bakura closed his eyes and brought Ryou's hand up to his lips. Then he turned Ryou's hand around and kissed his palm. "I'm sorry." He kissed below Ryou's shoulder where the sleeve of Ryou's shirt covered another scar. "I'm sorry." Bakura dropped to one knee, pulling Ryou down so that he sat on Bakura's bent knee. He started kissing the scars on Ryou's chest, knowing where they sat despite Ryou's shirt. "I'd do it all over again, and I hate myself for it."

"You shouldn't. I don't. I love you."

"You shouldn't."

Ryou ran his fingers through Bakura's hair. "But I will nonetheless because I want to."

Bakura kissed the last of Ryou's scars, looking up into Ryou's rich, brown eyes.

Ryou leaned forward, stealing a single kiss before whispering. "Even if you can't say it- they are ways to show it." His eyes flitted back towards his bedroom.

Bakura looked over his shoulder and then back at Ryou. He nodded. Ryou stood up and helped Bakura up to his feet, leading Bakura by the hand to his bedroom. Near the bed they undressed. Ryou slipped Bakura's coat to the floor. Bakura removed Ryou's top shirt. Ryou then pulled off Bakura's shirt while Bakura lifted Ryou's undershirt up over his head. There they paused, chests pressing together, both warm and moving with their breaths. Ryou kneaded his lips against Bakura's shoulder, and Bakura traced around the edges of the scars on Ryou's chest.

"I'd erase them if I could."

"And tear them open again if it gave you half a chance for your revenge."

"Yes, but I'd wish I could erase those, too." Bakura shook his head. "Or at least let you stab me back."

"That would turn into a nasty cycle. How about this instead?"

Ryou brought Bakura's face close. He dragged his top lips down Bakura's bottom lip. Bakura gasped, lips parting in anticipation of a full kiss that never came. Instead, Ryou teased the corner of Bakura's mouth, dabbing his tongue in a way that made Bakura shiver. Ryou trailed his kisses down to Bakura's jaw, curving up towards his ear and then sinking down to the nape of Bakura's neck. He lingered there, fingers fumbling against Bakura's belt buckle.

Bakura graced his lips across Ryou's temples, nuzzling the tip of his nose along Ryou's hairline. Ryou tilted his head up. Their cheeks brushed against each other as Bakura's belt dropped to the ground. Ryou dipped his fingers below Bakura's waistline. They slid over Bakura's hips and down the curve of his adonis belt. Bakura gasped, nudging his hips forward to deepen the sensation of Ryou's touch. His own hands clutched at Ryou's belt, but they were clumsy and fumbled around Ryou's buckle with no hope of undoing the clasp.

Their lips met, trembling against each other, eager but only grazing the surface of each other's lips. Ryou managed to pull down Bakura's fly and wrestle his pants down to his knees. Bakura fell back onto the bed, allowing Ryou to pull his pants away from Bakura's bone-white legs before stripping himself of the rest of his own clothing.

Ryou crawled up on the bed, settling down on top of Bakura so that their stomachs lined up and their cocks pressed together. Leaning in, Ryou held Bakura's face as they kissed. With small twitches of their hips they rubbed together, both moaning. Ryou moved back to Bakura's throat, and went he started sucking against Bakura's white skin, Bakura gave up a loud, desperate whine that made Ryou's cock twitch.

Bakura flipped them so they he was on top, frotting and moaning until both their faces were coral and bejewelled with sweat. Gasping, Bakura stopped. Ryou could tell by the way he shuddered that Bakura was on the brink.

"Come here," Ryou whispered.

Bakura bent down and Ryou drew across Bakura's bottom lip with his tongue. Bakura reached out his own tongue. At first they barely touched their tongues together, but after a minute of experimentation, they sank into themselves, engaging in deep French kisses that left their lips gleaming and pink and their lungs breathless.

Ryou pulled back, running his fingers around Bakura's mouth. "How are you holding up?"

A nervous laugh broke Bakura, wracking his chest with jerky movements. "I've never been this terrified in my life. You're worse than the Shadows"

"Should we slow down?"

"Don't you fucking dare, Ryou Bakura."

Ryou smiled at the use of his full name. After so many _my host_ and _yadonushi_ 's, hearing his name spoken out loud by Bakura felt like a kiss, like an embrace, like an _I love you_ spoken in a secret language meant for them alone.

Ryou wiggled out from beneath Bakura in order to fetch the lube hidden in his dresser. He brought the bottle back to the bed and handed it to Bakura.

"Um ..." Bakura stuttered.

"I thought we could switch."

"Yes. Of course."

Ryou's eyes widened a little at an internal realization. "You're nervous."

Bakura scoffed. "Don't be absurd."

Ryou licked his smiling lips. "It's actually a turn on. To see you nervous like this."

"I'm not nervous."

Ryou teased Bakura's nipples. "Want me to take over?"

"I'm perfectly capable," Bakura snapped, clutching the bottle of lube to his chest.

"Okay." Ryou lay next to Bakura on the bed and spread his legs wide.

Bakura stared, licking his lips while trying to slow his breathing. His hands shook, making it hard to pour the lube into his palm without spilling any. He fumbled as he closed the cap, and he fumbled his way to Ryou's entrance, jamming his finger in and making Ryou wince.

"Is that bad?" Bakura asked.

Ryou gave him a small grunt. "Just a little rough. Relax."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"

Ryou sighed and smiled, leaning against his pillow as he adjusted to the in-out motion of Bakura's finger. "I should have never let you read all those doujinshi comics."

"Oh, come on, I'm as experienced you."

Ryou giggled. Bakura choose that moment to slip his middle finger up Ryou's asshole, and he gasped, eyes lowering and cheeks flushing. "That was much smoother." Ryou took a few deep breaths and then asked, "Does Soul Room Sex even count? This is sort of our first time- no wonder you're nervous."

"I'm _not_ nervous! And of course it counts if you're in a Soul Room."

"Are you saying that so you don't feel like a virgin?"

"It counted enough to make me return to you even after I lost."

Ryou hitched up, suggesting that he was ready. Bakura pulled his hand away and started to kiss Ryou's thighs.

"Don't tease," Ryou begged in a breath voice.

"You'd deserve it." Bakura looked up at Ryou and his expression softened."I'm not teasing, though. I just … wanted to."

Ryou looked happy. His eyes shined as he looked at Bakura between his legs. "Will you kiss my chest then?"

Bakura answered by kissing his way up Ryou's body and pausing at his flicked his tongue over Ryou's right nipple and bit the left one. Ryou squirmed, panting and thrusting up so his hard cock could glide up and down Bakura's lower belly.

In a quick lunge, Bakura shifted up to kiss Ryou. Then he pushed away as if embarrassed, grabbing the lube and making sure he was slick before he settled back between Ryou's legs.

"Ready?"

Ryou continued to squirm and hitch upward. "Oh Bakura, please. I-I want you."

A tentative smile slipped across Bakura's face. He used his hand to guide his cock into Ryou's body. Ryou exhaled a loud breath as Bakura pushed inside.

Bakura paused. "Are you okay?"

Ryou's chest heaved up and down. "This is easily the least painful stabbing I've ever had."

"You bastard," Bakura hissed.

"I couldn't help it." Ryou giggled. His face was scarlet and his hair was wild. "Please, Bakura."

Bakura started rocking in and out with easy circles of his hips. "Tell me if-"

" _Ahhhh_ ," Ryou threw his head back into his pillow and called out.

"What's wrong?" Bakura tried to pull out, but Ryou wrapped his arms and legs around Bakura to keep their bodies connected.

"Please- more- Bakura- don't stop now."

Bakura exhaled, closing his eyes. His usual, confident smirk reappeared on his face. He picked up his pace but kept the motion gentle. Every push was tight, squeezing heat, and Bakura wanted to savor it. They both moaned, their chests pressed together. His hair was trapping the heat around his upper body, so Bakura dragged it all across one shoulder. Ryou's hair sprayed across his pillow except for a few strands that clung to his forehead. Bakura reached out a hand to smooth them away while continuing their steady rocking motion.

Ryou glanced at Bakura. His eyes were affectionate, but glazed with want. Ryou's hand slipped between them so he could stroke himself. Bakura peered down so he could watch Ryou's hand squeezing and pulling at his shaft. It was hot, especially watching while inside him. Bakura felt tight, glorious pressure build in his stomach.

Ryou's eyes shut. The muscles in his chest stretched taut and his slender biceps bulged and Ryou grit his teeth, breathing hard through his nose. Bakura groaned at the sight, entranced by how _wanton_ and desperate Ryou looked.

"'Kur-ahhh!" Ryou shouted, and then his body went slack.

He opened his eyes again, still lust-glazed and still love-struck. The breath caught in Bakura's throat. He curled closer to Ryou, tucking his face into the crook of Ryou's neck as his thrusts became harder and faster. Bakura sputtered as he came, the breath not quite able to reach his lungs.

Then everything in the room was calm and still. Ryou combed his fingers through Bakura's hair. Bakura didn't move from his hiding spot near the nape of Ryou's neck. He couldn't move.

"I love you," Ryou whispered.

Bakura flinched. "I already told you I wouldn't say it back."

He felt Ryou's head nod. "Yeah, and I already told you I was aware of that."

"Then why?" Bakura jerked his head up. His expression pained. "Why do you keep on saying it if you know you won't hear it said back?"

"Bakura." Ryou cupped Bakura's face in both of his hands. "I don't need to _hear_ it. I already told you I could feel everything you ever hid from yourself." He reached up to place another kiss on Bakura's forehead, lowering down again to look into Bakura's eyes. "I keep saying it, not so that I can hear it back, but so that _you_ can hear it, and you'd better get used to it because I'm going to say it every day, over and over again, until you believe it."


	46. Chapter 46

All Seto Kaiba wanted to do was escape from the crowd. Even with the half-consumed bottle of champagne in his closed fist, Kaiba couldn't handle the noise and the laughter and the sheer number of people all celebrating in his game room at that moment. He couldn't even remember whose birthday it was anymore, or how Yugi had talked him into letting them use the mansion in the first place.

He found himself outside, in the rose garden, stumbling and weaving until he sat beside the hot tub almost hidden amongst the roses. A soft splash brought Seto's attention to the hot tub itself. He blinked, his mind slow to put together the scene. Marik and Bakura were wound up together in the water. Marik was straddling Bakura's lap and burying his face in the thief's neck and moaning as their bodies rocked together.

Seto's mouth dropped. He wasn't shocked at _what_ they were doing so much as the gentle, intimate, even _affectionate_ way in which they were doing it.

"Do you mind?" Marik looked up, glaring at Seto with bright, lavender eyes.

Seto smirked, sipping from his bottle of champagne. "Not at all."

Marik reached out his hand. "Hand the bottle over- voyeur tax."

Seto took one last drink before passing the bottle to Marik. He threw his head back, taking several swings before pressing the bottle against Bakura's broad lips. He had come back in his original body just like Atem. Seto was always bitter, that the gods chose _them_ and not _her_ to come back. She hadn't gotten a proper chance to live either.

"Why are you brooding?" Marik asked, dropping the empty bottle into the grass surrounding the wooden hot tub frame and moving a little faster. Water occasionally splashed over and dribbled down the sides.

Bakura tried to mute a grunt of pleasure, but all he managed to do was draw it out into a long, quiet groan.

Seto stared at the star-like glint of the champagne bottle catching moonlight. "Well damn, I'm out champagne now." He stood up, trying to deny the ache in his chest. "Excuse me while I find some more."

Marik looked at Seto again. Seto felt like Marik's eyes were shards of glass cutting into him. He shivered. Marik smirked, leaning closer to Bakura and whispering into his ear. Bakura chuckled, sighing in disappointment as Marik slipped off his lap. Marik leaned over the border of the hot tub, facing Seto and beckoning with a finger.

Seto gave Marik a wary look. "What are you scheming?"

"Afraid?"

Seto snorted and marched up to Marik, leaning forward a bit. Two pairs of silt-colored hands grabbed him and pulled him into the hot, foamy water. Seto surfaced and sputtered for breath, trying to dry his hair with wet hands.

"You fucking bastards."

"Don't be so drab, Seto," Marik purred as he started to untie Seto's tie. At the same time, Bakura was working on removing Seto's jacket.

He glared at Bakura and then at Marik. "Riff raff like him would pull a stunt like this, but I expected better from you, Ishtar. You know exactly how much this suit costs."

"Fuck you, Kaiba," Bakura snapped.

Marik gave Seto a look of mock horror, as if just realizing what he'd done. "Oh no, what a shame!" He and Bakura both started to crack up. Marik shrugged, working on Seto's shirt buttons while Bakura undid Seto's belt. "I'll buy you a new one in every color you can find- or at least a blue and white one and a white and blue one."

"This from the guy who wears more purple than Prince?" He kicked off his own shoes and shifted so that Bakura could remove his pants.

"That's because I was meant to be a king."

Seto gave another bitter snort. "But the real king is in the game room doing jello shots, isn't he?"

Marik grabbed Seto's hair and jerked his head back. "He might be the real king, but by the time I'm done with you, you'll be calling out to god."

Seto shifted his glance back to Bakura, who gave a half roll of his eyes. "Don't look at me. I had him calmed down for once before you showed up and riled him back up."

Seto opened his mouth to protest, but Marik bit hard into his neck. Seto shouted, closing his eyes and relaxing in the others' grips. "No marks," he managed to whisper.

"At least not where it'll show." Bakura chuckled before biting into Seto's shoulder and making him scream again.

Bakura grabbed a bottle of lube that sat on the edge of the hot tub and coated his fingers. Not much reached Seto in the water, so he sat up on the lip of the hot tub, balancing with both hands and feet as he spread his legs so Bakura could prep him. Out of the hot, steaming water, Seto shivered, but Bakura's hands were warm and it distracted him.

"Here." Marik sat on the top step of the hot tub, slathering a thick layer of lube over his erect cock.

Bakura pulled away and Seto scooted over to Marik's lap, facing in the same direction as Marik. Seto sank down Marik's shaft, calling out. Bakura stood one the second step, bubbles dancing around his upper thighs. Because he was short, his cock lined up at the perfect height to penetrate Seto. Kaiba screamed louder. They'd never done it both at once before and Seto leaned hard into Marik's chest, allowing them to both fill him.

Marik leaned back as well, propping his elbows against the edge of the hot tub so he could recline without irritating his back. Bakura leaned in, holding the safety rail with one hand and the edge of the hot tub with the other.

They started to move, Marik only little thrusts upward, Bakura deeper, fuller slams of his cock. "Oh god!" Seto wailed.

Marik and Bakura both laughed.

"That didn't take long," Marik taunted in Seto's ear.

"Marik … I can't …" he meant that he couldn't banter, but he never managed enough words. Instead he groaned, his tall legs forcing his knees up high out of the water, but he wasn't cold anymore. Not with Marik and Bakura's cocks both ramming into him at once.

Seto's hands pressed against the step on either side of Marik's hips. He used the extra leverage to bounce in Marik's lap, but it threw off Bakura's rhythm so he had to stop. Still, even without the extra movement, Seto was throbbing hard, and all he could think about was coming. He curled his fingers around his cock one at a time and then started pulling up and down. He ignored the splashing sounds as they pushed water out of the hot tub, he no longer cared about his ruined suit or how he was going to get back inside without being soaking wet and naked, all Seto could think about was the _slam-slam, slam-slam, slam-slam_ of hard flesh pounding into his ass.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, resting it on Marik's shoulder as come splashed into the churning water. At the same time he heard Bakura calling out and felt the heat of his seed despite the warm water surrounding them.

Bakura pulled out, giving Marik free reign of Seto's asshole. He started bucking up, forcing strong huffs of air to exhale from Seto's mouth each time Marik shoved into him, and then Marik too was screaming.

When it was all over, Seto glanced at his wet suit slung over the edge opposite of them and sighed.

Bakura climbed out of, grabbing something out of Seto's line of sight, and then offered it to him. "Here."

Seto blinked. Bakura held a towel and one of Seto's robes.

"We stole one for each of us," Marik explained as he also stepped out of the hot tub and started to dry himself.

Seto stood up and accepted the towel, drying off and then wrapping himself in the robe. Marik and Bakura shared a towel, arguing over who was getting it more wet as they dried each other's hair.

The haunt of a grin twitched against Seto's lips. "Thanks."

"Well, it's your robe," Bakura said, combing his damp but no longer dripping hair with his fingers.

"I wasn't talking about the robe."

Marik caught on first and winked at Seto. Bakura took half a second longer, but then grinned. "You know, we're a little tired after that romp, and only the softest bed in the mansion will be worth stealing."

"That would be my bed." Seto smirked as he walked away. "I'll bring another bottle of champagne."


	47. Outcasts (Outcastshipping)

*****Just FYI, I have 16 lemonade/cottoncandy prompts left and 2 drunk prompts. Then I'm done with prompts forever ... or at least until new years when I get drunk again and do another round of drunk prompts on Tumblr lol*****

* * *

At least she was clean. There was that much. Kisara had spent the day traveling through three different villages, and had been run out of all three for being a bad omen. At the end of the day, she'd managed to find an oasis hidden in the desert where at least she could bathe. There were date trees, and sparrow eggs, and the water was clear instead of murky, so Kisara had managed better than she did at the end of most days.

It still hurt, however, to be cast out from village after village. By now she should have been a wife, a mother, raising a family, serving her husband beer and bread, keeping his bed warm at night. She sighed at the last thought. The desert became frigid at night. She imagined how nice it'd be the share a night with a warm body pressed against hers, solid muscle and flesh in contact with her own skin.

Kisara laid down on the bank. Reeds grew up high around her, and she hadn't seen another person since the last town. She felt safe, even if lonely. The sun warmed her skin. She closed her eyes, pretending it was body heat, her fingers tracing down her stomach. A shiver ran through her at the caress of her own fingers. She continued to drag them down, down, until she was caressing herself gently between her legs. She wasn't quite sure what to do, what a husband would do, but the touch felt pleasant so she continued to glide her fingers up and down and dig her toes into the wet sand. Her breath grew short, sweat gathered in tiny beads around her neck and temples, her body burned inside from an insatiable want, but no matter how much she rolled her palm, or dipped her fingers between the soft folds of skin between her legs, she couldn't break the tension mounting inside her.

The sound of hooves made Kisara freeze in place, her heart beating out of control. A silhouette jumped off of a horse and into the reeds beside her. He didn't notice her though. He tossed aside his scarlet cloak and indigo shenti with the confidence of a man about to bathe alone. Kisara's eyes widened at the sight of silt colored skin and knotted muscles, but it was when the stranger pulled the hood away from his head that she sat up and shouted.

"You have white hair!"

The stranger jumped, tripped over his own feet, and crashed against the sand lining the bank of the water. He tried scrambling for his hood, but Kisara stopped him, crawling over to him and showing him her own hair.

"It's okay! Look!"

He paused, and blinked, and grabbed a strand to inspect with his own fingers. His jewel-bright eyes shifted to her. They stared at each other for a long time. Kisara felt her cheeks burning, and she gave her lips a nervous lick.

"Were you bathing?"

"I'd just finished," she said. "I was drying in the sun."

Kisara reached up her hand, hovering her fingers just above the stranger's shaggy white mane. "May I?'

He nodded, still looking a little shocked, as if he expected Kisara to be a ghost instead of a human. She gave him a reassuring smile before shifting her fingers through the messy tangles of hair.

"You poor dear, you need someone to comb it for you."

"What does it matter." The stranger gave a bitter snort, taking Kisara's wrists and pulling them down and away from his hair. His grip was firm, but not rough. "No one's ever touched it before, and you'll probably be the last one to try."

"Yeah." Kisara nodded. "I know how you feel. We're bad omens."

Their eyes caught each other, and they both stared in silence. She could see it in his eyes, the loneliness, the tragedy, the grief. There was anger in his eyes too, so much of it, and it scared her, but she didn't care. She didn't care. She just wanted to be touched by someone _at least once_.

He let go of her hand, reaching up and carding his fingers through the much longer strands. She reached her hands back up, caring not to tug at the knots while she dragged her fingers down. They leaned a little closer, eyes lidded and hands lost in each other's hair.

Leaning a little closer, Kisara's breasts brushed against the stranger's chest, making them both gasp. They froze in place, afraid to move, realizing, properly realizing, for the first time that they were naked and close together and touching each other's hair like lovers. Both their cheeks were coral, although the color looked more vibrant against Kisara's milk-pale skin.

"Um …" the stranger muttered, still frozen in place as if he were afraid to move.

"I, uh …" Kisara replied, blue eyes still locked onto the stranger's face.

Then, both at once, they leaned in. Kisara felt her nipples stiffen as they grazed across the stranger's chest again. They gasped a second time, neither used to any kind of touch. With their fingers in each other's hair, they pulled themselves the rest of the way together. At the last moment, Kisara tilted her head so their noses didn't clash when their lips met.

He pulled soft, delighted coos from Kisara's mouth. Her hands slipped out of his hair, dragging her nails down his back and then curving her palms around the curve of the stranger's ass.

He jerked back. "I still have to bathe!"

He sprang up and ran to the water, splashing and scrubbing at his skin. Kisara wanted the scream, her temper flaring in her like the fire of some great, white mythical beast. She was used to traveling through the desert, a little dirt and sweat wasn't going to detour her, not the way his lips had felt on her own. If anything the scent of his musk excited her, the same way the scent of a kill excited a lion.

She _wanted_ , and she slipped into the water intending to catch her prey.

The stranger looked up while scrubbing under his arms, noticing Kisara approach. His eyes were wide, not frightened, but a little disbelieving. His mouth hung open, lips moving as if to form words he forgot how to say. Kisara wrapped her arms around the stranger's neck and pulled him close again, pushing their bodies together until her breasts squashed against him.

"What's your name?" He blurted out in a quick breath.

She'd been about to ravage his mouth again, but his question brought her back to her senses- they were strangers to each other. "Kisara. What's your name?"

He shook his head.

She frowned. "You don't want to tell me?'

"I can't tell you a name I don't know."

"But what do people call you?"

" _Iksu_."

"Oh … Kisara looked into the water lapping around their waists. "So you're a thief."

"Yes."

"I understand." She looked back up into his eyes, then away again. "I … stole bread once. I felt too guilty afterward to ever do it again, though."

"Don't you dare ever feel guilt for doing what you need to in order to survive." The thief pinched Kisara's chin with his thumb and pointer finger and turned her head back to face him. "You deserve to live as much as the rest of them."

Tears lined Kisara's eyes and spilled down her cheeks. No one had ever said that to her before. The thief leaned in and kissed the salt-water from her cheeks. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her back to the bank near the water, and laid her down on top of his scarlet robes.

He fit himself between her legs, their bellies pressed together and he lowered down to kiss her. After a single minute of kissing, Kisara could feel the thief hard and pressing _almost_ where she wanted. She squirmed, trying to deepen the sensation of them pressed together.

He broke their kiss. "I've … never …"

"Neither have I," she confessed.

"Are you sure we should?"

"I want to, if that's what you mean." She looked away. "I know you don't have a house to take me back to. This isn't our wedding night. Foraged dates don't make a wedding feast, and you'll leave in the morning, but still, I want to know what it's liked to be loved- at least once."

"If you had a baby, it'd have white hair like us."

Kisara smiled at the thought of a child in her arms. "Life is hard, but I'm still glad I'm alive. Aren't you?"

He thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. He cupped her face in his hand, sliding his palms down her neck and then to her breasts. He squeezed, bringing his mouth down to a nipple that was almost as white as the rest of her. Kisara sighed, hitching up so she could grind against the thief's erect cock.

He moaned, mouth still latched around her nipple. He flicked his tongue and then dragged his lips to between her breast, pressing deep kisses into her skin. Kisara hitched up again, nails digging into the thief's back. They started to sway back and forth in a rhythm, his cock gliding against the lips of her cunt. The thief pulled away enough to grab his shaft and guide it until he was pressed against her entrance.

Kisara spread her legs wider, both to encourage the thief and to make it easier to penetrate her. Still holding his shaft, he only pressed in the head of his cock, teasing her. She gave him a small, high pitched whine, wanting more, but he continued to go slow, easing in little by little until he was fully sheathed. They lay there a moment, panting, looking at each other.

"How does it feel?" He asked.

She smiled, her cheeks burning. "Big."

His cheeks darkened like a sunset. "I mean are you okay? Does it hurt? Or-"

"No, no!" Kisara shook her head. "I mean it doesn't hurt. It's … it's nice."

"Oh, uh, g-good. I'll go a little faster now."

He slid back and Kisara gasped. "T-that's nice, too," she whispered, trying to assure the thief before he stopped again.

Instead of stopping he eased back in, grunting a little with his own pleasure. He established a solid rhythm, and Kisara relaxed against the vibrant, red cloth beneath her. She looked out onto the oasis, at the date trees and celery blossoms, and it was all beautiful, so was the thief above her. She turned to watch his face as he moved, reaching out and combing his gorgeous, silvery hair.

He looked shy, eyes darting between her and the foliage near them. Kisara turned his cheek so that his eyes stayed on her. His gaze made her shiver. She squeezed her thighs, a soft moan slipping out of her mouth. A rush of heat and pleasure swept over Kisara. Every movement inside of her made her shudder until her toes curled against the scarlet fabric below her and her fingers were pulling at the thief's hair. "Yes!"

The thief groaned, eyes wide and lips parted as he watched her. She smiled at him afterward, easing up the grip her thighs had on his waist. She waiting for him to finish, but he kept going. He rolled her pale breast in his dark rough palm, and then bent down to give her nipple a quick kiss before he used both hands for balance again so he could speed up.

It became hard to to moan, or call out. At first Kisara felt embarrassed about the noises, they were loud and repetitious, but the more she wailed, the faster the thief went, and the harder his breath came as his chest heaved.

Kisara was pressing up now, her hips rising and falling. She felt hot and trembling all over again. The thief thrusted hard, and Kisara winced, feeling tender. "Softly," she whispered.

He slowed down a touch, careful to not thrust as deep. The overwhelming pleasure made Kisara forget about the moment of pain, she grabbed the thief's back and screamed as she felt her pleasure peak once again. She rode out the shuddering in her thighs and lower belly, the scream faltering and dying in her throat long before the pleasure ceased. The thief felt huge within her. He was thrusting deeply again and while it was a bit too much, Kisara held onto his shoulders and bore until she could feel the heat of him increase as he came inside her.

When it was over he pulled the corners of his robe around them, wrapping them up and pulling Kisara close to him.

"Don't leave until morning," Kisara whispered. She buried herself against him, savoring the feel of him, the scent of him, the heat of his body. She knew it'd probably be the only time in her life that she'd know such a luxury, so she wanted to savor it.

"Hey," he asked.

"Yes?"

"Are you afraid of ghosts?"

"Uh … ghosts?"

"Yes?"

"Like … evil spirits?"

"... yes. Spirits that have been damned and can't move on."

"I- I guess? I'm sure that would be frightening to see, but, I'd feel sorry for them, too, if they were damned. That must be an awful way to exist. I'd want to find a way to help them, if I could."

"Hmmm." Bakura hummed low in his throat. "I could take you back to my village, if you wanted, to meet them, but you _cannot show fear_."

"Meet them?" Kisara sat up when an even more shocking realization hit her. "Wait, you want to take me back to your village?"

He scowled, looking away. "You'll die on your own."

"I haven't yet." She smiled. "But I'd like to- I mean go with you." She paused a moment. "Are there really ghosts?"

He nodded.

She nodded in return. "I won't scream."

He chuckled at that, patting the spot next to him to beckon Kisara to lie back beside him. She snuggled against his chest, falling asleep in the sunlight and dreaming of flying across the desert with great, white wings.


	48. Kleptoshipping/ A Game of Chance

Yugi smiled when he saw the wiry frame and the insane white hair. "It's been a long time, Bakura."

He stood on the other side of the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

"This was the only store that had it. I even drove to Kyoto and Osaka to avoid _this store_." He hissed the last two words as if they pained him.

Yugi ignored Bakura's frown and gave him a playful wink. "One of the perks about being the King Of Games."

"Oh are you still on about that? That was twenty years ago, get over it."

"Eighteen years ago," Yugi corrected, grinning. It was fun to rile Bakura, but he only ever got the chance when a new game came out and all the other stores were out of stock.

Bakura clenched his jaw. "Shut-up, take my money, and let me get on with my life."

Yugi leaned forward, elbows on the counter, chin propped up by his hands. "Do you have anyone to play with?"

He didn't think the look on Bakura's face could grow more sour, but he managed it somehow as he looked away. "Of course."

"I don't think you do."

"Fuck you, Mutou. Are you going to sell the game to me or not?"

Yugi shifted his weight to his left hand, resting his cheek on his fist and using his right hand to tease the edge of the board game. "I could give you the game." He glanced up at Bakura and winked. "If you play with me."

"Fuck. No."

"I know you don't have anyone else to play with."

"I can video chat with Ryou and play."

"That's never as fun as having a warm body in the same room." Yugi gave him a knowing smile.

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I've heard of how _you_ play your games."

Yugi sighed. "But I never have any competition. It's always too easy to win." He rolled his violet eyes over to Bakura. "But you always managed to put up a good fight."

"Yes, poor, unfortunate soul, always winning. The gods are cruel."

Yugi kept his eyes locked on Bakura. "Does that mean we can play together some time?"

"I already told you fuck no. I know how your _games_ tend to go."

Yugi giggled, scratching the back of his head. "That's only if people want to make the game more interesting."

"I don't see what's so interesting about losing and getting fucked."

Yugi blushed. "Seto still thinks he'll win one day. Honestly, though, I don't think he even tries. I think he just liked the excuse to bottom."

Bakura gave a dry snort, flicking a debit card in Yugi's direction the same way he used to handle Duel Monster cards. Yugi sighed, writing his phone number down on a piece of receipt paper and sliding it and the game towards Bakura.

"Here. Take the game anyway. No charge. But at least considering letting me play it with you?" Yugi looked away, still blushing. "We can play it vanilla."

Bakura chuckled. "Am I not _interesting_ enough for you?"

"I _wish_ you wanted to play like that, but I know- how long are you going to hate me for something that happened thousands of years before I was born?"

"Hate you?" Bakura raised an eyebrow. "That'd be like hating a white chess piece just because I play the black pieces. You don't hate the pawns, or the knights, you hate the player moving the pieces"

"You're lonely," Yugi said.

Bakura took the game and tucked it under his arm. Yugi tried to see what he did with his phone number, but Bakura always moved too quickly, and Yugi figured he threw it on the floor.

"That's not really a secret." Bakura turned to leave.

"You don't have to be!" Yugi shouted as Bakura left the game shop.

Bakura frowned at the sidewalk the entire way home. Both of his hands were shoved into his pockets, the right one clenching a crumpled piece of paper with an unwanted phone number on it. He wasn't sure why he pocketed it. Or why he still had it. Or why he kept tracing the creases with his thumb as if he wanted to unwad it and look at the number written on the paper.

When he got home, Bakura tossed the box onto the coffee table. He didn't want to play it anymore. It was practically a gift from Yugi, why would he touch it? Bakura heated up some pizza pockets and played Skyrim until 2am before trudging to bed, and staring at the ceiling.

He still wore his clothes. The damn wad of paper still burned a hole through the denim of his pants. Bakura pulled it out and glared at it. _Why_ was he doing this to himself? _Why_ was he considering this? He couldn't really form it into words, but it had something to do with him being sick and tired of sleeping alone every night, but he was shit at dealing with people, and at least Yugi already knew he was an asshole.

Bakura grabbed his cell phone and texted a single word.

_Okay_

He didn't expect a response until the next day, but a moment later his phone chirped at him.

_Great! Tomorrow 9?_

Bakura rolled his eyes, wondering what he was doing, but he texted back.

_K_

And then, after a long moment of thought, he added,

_Let's make the game interesting._

The response came quicker than the others.

_:o :D ;D_

Bakura tossed the phone onto his nightstand, rolling over and forcing himself to go to sleep; however, all he managed to do was toss and turn until near dawn when he finally passed out. He woke up a little after noon and started the arduous task of grooming himself for the closest thing to a date he'd been on in five or six years. He scrubbed himself down, shaved most areas (waxed others), and picked out something to wear that made him feel better than listless.

Then Bakura thought about what was _actually_ going to happen that night, and he had no illusions what-so-ever about winning any game played against Yugi Mutou, so he went to the store and bought lube and an enema. If he was going to get stuck bottoming after losing a board game, then dammit he was going to enjoy it and not feel self conscious through the entire thing. He also bought wine, an entire fucking box of some pink shit that looked like it'd taste better than the swill they served at restaurants. Nothing would ever compare to the pomegranate wine he used to steal from tombs, but the pink stuff looked palatable.

Bakura made sure he was prepared- he didn't want Yugi to do it- and two glasses into his box of wine before the doorbell rang five minutes before 9pm.

"It's open!" Bakura called. He had the game set up on the floor next to the coffee table, and he sat down on one side with his legs crossed beneath him.

Yugi crept inside, looking around at the posters and furniture. "Nice place."

Bakura swallowed the urge to say something sarcastic, opting for a shrug. He gestured to the table where another glass of wine sat. Yugi smiled and took it, kneeling in front of the game.

"How do I know you didn't cheat?" He took a sip of wine, winking.

Bakura looked up at Yugi, and back down at the board. He hadn't even thought of cheating. He'd been too preoccupied with his fingers in his ass while he prepped himself. At that moment, Bakura realized he'd already accepted defeat, and it bothered him. He should at least try to win, but no matter how many times he told himself to put up a good fight … he couldn't bring himself to care about it. He simply wanted to play, he simply wanted a warm hand against his skin afterward, the thought of winning had died with his aspirations of vengeance. His final failure had been too much, him coming back to the world unexplained while the Pharaoh moved on had been too much, he'd spent the last two decades just trying to remember how to be human and somewhere along that path, he'd forgotten to take advantage of every situation.

"Fuck … I'm losing my touch."

Yugi laughed. "I would think you were lying if you didn't look so pissed off at yourself."

"Cheating never helped before. Shut-up and play," Bakura snapped, chugging the last of his wine in hopes that it'd quell the flutter in his stomach.

It was a typical board game. They had figures, Yugi chose a griffin and Bakura a naga, that they moved around the board based on dice throws. The fun of the game came from the cards they drew each time they landed on a square. The cards created a story unique to each play through. Yugi kept having trouble with traps, and Bakura took a quick lead in the game.

"See? You're winning," Yugi said, "I better watch out or I'll be the one on my back tonight."

"Oh please, we both know how this will go. I'll stay in the lead for a bit, you'll catch up, I'll manage to do something that seemingly assures my victory, and then at the last second you'll pull the _one card_ out of the entire deck that you need to beat me. I'm already prepped."

"Bakura! You have to at least try to win."

"I'm trying to play. If I think of the ending it'll ruin the fun of the game." Bakura rolled a twelve and moved his naga.

"You're playing really well."

"Sure." It wasn't until Bakura had gotten near the end of the game that he looked at Yugi again. "You know, you better start catching up soon if you're going to sweep ahead for a last second victory."

Yugi had lost all the casual, flirty ease from the beginning of the night. His wine sat hardly touched as Yugi stared at the board in concentration. His brows furrowed together as he rolled a three.

"Yeah, you're right, but these dice seem to hate me."

"I promise I didn't brainwash them."

Yugi gave him a distracted laugh. "I only believe you because the Ring is buried in the desert."

Bakura hummed at the statement, thinking it was far past time for his people to be buried and put to rest. He rolled a seven, won an extra turn, and then rolled a nine.

"Okay, seriously, Yugi."

"I'm trying!" Yugi rolled a ten, but had to fight a monster and retreated three spaces during the battle.

Bakura laughed, his amusement honest and not mocking. For his turn he only rolled a five, but he still had a large lead. Yugi's luck picked up as he managed a twelve, and then found a hidden passage that put him one square behind Bakura.

"Ah, here we are," Bakura said.

Yugi sipped from his wine glass again. "That's the most nervous I've been in a game for years! See why I wanted to play with you?"

"So glad to be entertaining."

Bakura tossed the die without much interest, knowing he'd roll anything that would be _not quite enough_ for a victory. Bakura's eyes rounded when he rolled an eleven. He stared at the dice. He stared at the number of squares left for his naga- eleven. He stared at Yugi.

Yugi was pale. His violet eyes near glowed as they stared in shock at the board.

Bakura picked at the sleeve of his shirt. "That … that's wrong somehow."

Yugi shook his head. "It's not wrong. You rolled perfectly."

"There's got to be some sort of rule." Bakrua grabbed the rule sheet, scanning to the "winning" section and searching for some technicality that prevented him from winning.

"Bakura, you won."

"That's _impossible_ ," Bakura hissed, still rummaging through rules and fine print, trying to find the missing piece that would tilt the scales again and declare him a loser once again.

Yugi started laughing, so hard that it almost sounded villainous. "No, you won. You won. You- gods, this feels great!"

He glance up at Yugi, confused. "What? Why are you happy? This is horribly _wrong_."

"No, this is the best thing that's happen to me in _years_. Do you have any idea? How bad it feels to win every game? It's horrible. It's- Bakura!" Yugi lunged across the board, tacking Bakura to the floor, yanking two fists of Bakura's tangled, white hair, and plunging his tongue into Bakura's mouth.

He was already confused about winning, and Yugi's attack knocked what little breath Bakura had left straight out of his lungs. Yugi's kiss made Bakura's head spin. He didn't have time to think, acting on instinct and meeting Yugi's tongue with his own. Yugi's body burned with heat, and that's what Bakura had wanted all along, heat, weight, the presence of another person. Bakura coiled his arms around Yugi's back, pulling them together as much as he could.

Yugi dropped down to Bakura's neck, biting hard, and then sucking harder. Bakura shouted out, arching into the sensation of Yugi's mouth. He'd always been a slut for having his throat sucked on, although his skin bruised quicker than the flesh of an apple. He'd look half murdered the next day, but for the time being he encouraged Yugi by bucking his hips up and calling out a second time.

Then Bakura remembered that he had won. He rolled them over, pinning Yugi's wrists above his head. Yugi gasped at the switch, face flushing crimson. Keeping Yugi's wrists pinned together with his left hand, Bakura hooked his right pointer finger into the silver ring hanging from Yugi's leather choker. He yanked Yugi up by the collar and kissed him. Yugi moaned, squirming, but making no real efforts to free himself.

He nipped Yugi's bottom lip, a feral urge rising in him. He released the collar and grabbed one of Yugi's forearms in each hand, biting and kissing at each of Yugi's wrists. He trailed up Yugi's right arm, skipping over to Yugi's collarbone and leaving a bouquet of bruises, needing to mark Yugi as much as his own skin would be marked. His fingers twisted into the black fabric of Yugi's tank top and he tore the cloth from Yugi's chest. It tore at a jagged diagonal, and then it was a heap on top of the board game they'd both forgotten. Bakura hadn't even moved his piece to the end of the board. He was too busy unbuckling Yugi's belt with his teeth.

He shifted up again, biting hard around Yugi's nipples and lapping at the erect nubs between bites. Yugi reached up, slipping his hands beneath Bakura's shirt and ranking his nails down Bakura's back. He relished the sting of nails scoring into his flesh.

"Bakura," Yugi spoke Bakura's name like a swear, and Bakura laughed with his lips curled back and his teeth still clamped against Yugi's nipple.

Yugi clawed Bakura's shirt off of his body and fought until Bakura's pants were on the floor. Bakura bit into Yugi's shoulder, rubbing their bare cocks together. A shudder ran through him, the kind only known by those who've tasted forbidden fruit. That's what Yugi was, a vessel that belonged to the Pharaoh, or at least used to, and Bakura sucking the saliva off of his lips was more blasphemous than stealing all those jars of pomegranate wine thousands of years ago.

Yugi half-moaned, half shrieked when Bakura pulled him up into the air. With Yugi's arms around his shoulders, and Yugi's legs around his waist, Bakura carried him to the bedroom and dropped him onto the bed. He grabbed his lube and smeared gel over his fingers.

Yugi looked away, chuckling nervously. "Can't remember the last time I didn't top."

Bakura shrugged a single shoulder. "I can't remember the last time I did." He paused, staring at Yugi's spread legs and hard cock. "We can switch."

Yugi shook his head no, bringing his knees into his chest and giving Bakura a good view of his tight entrance. With an evil smirk, Bakura drizzled cold lube directly onto Yugi's asshole. He gasped and cringed away from the chill; Bakura laughed. He used his slick fingers to work around Yugi's opening and then slipped two fingers inside, easing them in an out slowly.

" _Ahhh_!" Yugi crushed his eyes shut, already panting.

"Is it too much?"

"N-no."

"Relax."

"I'm trying."

Bakura took his free hand and rubbed it up and down Yugi's thigh. "Relax."

"Why aren't you hurting me?"

"What?" Bakura pulled both hands away.

Yugi blinked his eyes opened, looking up at Bakura. "Isn't this your chance? Get back at him a little?"

Bakura gripped the edge of the bed. "What would that _serve_? Will his ghost come and save you? Will the gods?"

Yugi sat up. "I don't know … it's just what I thought you'd do."

"Fuck you," Bakura snarled.

Yugi smiled despite the growing tension in the air. "You're supposed to be."

Bakura growled. He jumped onto the bed, using his foot to press Yugi's chest back against the bed. Then, he turned so that he faced away from Yugi and then dropping down on Yugi's cock. Yugi gave a long, low moan of pleasure. Bakura shuddered, at the sound, at the feeling of being stuffed that he'd been yearning for the entire night. He rocked his hips up and slammed down, once, like punctuation.

"Don't care about the game."

He rolled up and slammed down again, forcing Yugi to call out again.

"Don't care about winning."

He squeezed as he pulled up, plunging down as fast and hard as he could.

"Even I crave company from time to time."

He set up a slow rhythm. His balls throbbed, he wanted to throw his head back and stroke himself until he came quick and hard over the edge of the bed, but that wasn't part of his plan. Bakura reached over and added more lube to his fingers, stuffing them into Yugi's ass as he continued to ride him backwards.

"Fuck!" Yugi called out in surprise. "Bakura!"

He'd heard his name shouted by Yugi, but never quite like he had tonight. Bakura smirked, hooking his fingers and making sure he jabbed at Yugi's prostate.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Gods! Fuck!"

Yugi seemed to have forgotten how to speak beyond the use of obscenities. Bakura added a third finger.

"Ready to switch?"

"Fuck! Gods! Fuck! Anything! J-just, oh shit, godsdamn, fuck me, Bakura!"

Bakura licked his lips, pulling his hands away and stepping off of Yugi and the bed. He lifted Yugi up again, slamming him hard against the wall. Their teeth clinked together when they tried to kiss, it was irritating, but both were too focused to let it slow them. They sucked at each other's mouths, and Bakura slammed his cock up Yugi's ass.

Yugi shouted, clawed at Bakura's shoulders, bit at Bakura's jawline until he found his neck again, added depth and complexity to already forming hickies. Bakura bucked forward, shoving in hard enough to force Yugi's against the wall. He grunted, mouth forming a strangely cute and uncharacteristic snarl at the pain.

"You okay?" Bakura asked.

"Fuck me harder, you bitch!" Yugi cursed, biting again, biting harder.

Bakura shuddered at the thrill of teeth sinking hard into his neck. He wanted to make a dry, sarcastic comment of not guessing Yugi as someone to be so filthy-mouthed in bed, but he was rather enjoying the growls and hard, final _fucks_ that flew from Yugi's mouth each time Bakura slammed his cock forward.

Yugi yanked at Bakura's hair, tugging, pulling until his biceps flexed. Bakura hissed at the pain, riding it out.

"Harder!" Yugi shouted.

Bakura shifted his feet to get more leverage in his hips. Yugi's heat swallowed Bakura's cock. He pumped so fast that he couldn't breath, only gasp.

"Grab my cock!" Yugi ordered.

Bakura's hand shot right for Yugi's shaft, squeezing it and sliding his hand up. He added a little twist each time he slide down towards the base.

"Fuck yes! Like that! I'm going to come!"

"Do it," Bakura whispered between stolen breaths he struggled to catch.

Yugi moaned again, hiding his face in the crock of Bakura's neck. Bakura felt Yugi's dick pulse, pumping hard as hot come spashed of Bakura's hand. Bakura couldn't hold Yugi's weight anymore, he carried him back to the bed, laying him down and slipping back inside.

" _Mmmm…_ " Yugi hummed, satisfied and calm now that he'd finished.

He slipped his arms around Bakura's waist, nuzzling Bakura's chest. Bakura called out, closing his eyes and relishing in the feeling of arms gripping him.

"That's right," Yugi whispered, nuzzling against Bakura's bruised shoulder.

Bakura's eyes fluttered shut, pleasure swelled in his groin and poured up through his shaft. The orgasm lingered, and even when Bakura's arms gave out and he fell half on top of Yugi, he shivered with little aftershocks.

"You're not like Ryou in bed," Yugi spoke in a quiet voice, his fingers combing out the tangles that his fists had caused moments earlier.

"If you didn't already have that figured out, you're an idiot."

"I've never had sex against the wall though."

Bakura opened a single eye. "Really?"

"I'm too short to pick anyone up."

Bakura gave a single nod, understanding the problem. "And you never lose."

Yugi smiled, his eyes sparkled. "It was fun, to lose for a night."

"Next time we can skip the game altogether."

Yugi laughed, arching his eyebrows. "Next time?"

Bakura's expression hardened. He turned to his other side, looking away from Yugi.

Yugi gripped his shoulder. "Hey, don't turn away! I'd like a next time."

"That was stupid to say."

"No. Why? Let's do it again some time. Bakura, don't shut me out _now_ , I-"

"Fine," Bakura growled, turning on his back. "Whatever. Just, text me sometime or something."

Yugi sighed, using Bakura's chest as a pillow. "Is this pissing you off?"

"I'm tired," Bakura said as if that answered.

"Want me to leave? I don't want to overstay my welcome."

"Whatever."

Yugi grinned, scraping his teeth against his bottom lip. "Why can't you just tell me you want me to stay? I like cuddling after."

Bakura made a soft sound of content protest as Yugi nuzzled into his chest. His eyes closed again. "Stay the night."

"I should probably warn you. I'll probably be waking you up in the middle of the night for round two. You were too fucking good on my cock earlier."

Bakura wondered where he even _learned_ to talk such filth. "Gods, please do. You know I'm always ready for a second round in any game we play."


	49. Shrimpshipping

*****The anon asked for slightly aged up shrimpshipping, but I aged it way the fuck up because that was the only way it was getting written*****

* * *

The stack of papers on his desk were obscene, so high that each time the air conditioner kicked on he feared the slight shift in air would cause the impossible stack to topple over and scatter across the floor. Ryuzaki dry-swallowed three ibuprofens and went back to work.

A knock on the door made him cringe. He was too busy for interruptions.

"What?" He snapped.

"Let's get lunch."

Ryuzaki's eyes darted up and he saw Haga leaning in the door frame.

"I don't need lunch."

"Sure you do."

"I'm busy."

"Bring the paperwork with you."

Ryuzaki grit his teeth. He was hungry, and Haga would buzz around him like a fly all day long if he didn't go, so he stuffed a few sheets into a briefcase, tossed on his jacket, and followed Haga out of the building and to a small café across the street from where they worked. They ordered sandwiches and espresso, and Ryuzaki did what he could with his paperwork as they waited for the food.

"We never hang out anymore."

"We're not kids anymore, and card games stopped paying the bills a long time ago."

Haga smirked, pushing up his glasses higher on his nose. "If you find the right suckers, they can still pay pretty well."

"I'm not hustling college kids just to get a nicer apartment."

"Suit yourself. Clearly, you're happy like this."

"It's a life." Ryuzaki scowled.

With that Haga hummed in mock agreement. "Come over to my place tonight."

Something twisted in Ryuzaki's belly, but he didn't want to think about _why_. Instead, he took a long sip of bitter espresso.

"Did you hear what I said? I said-"

"I heard."

"Well?"

"I'm working late."

"I'll wait up."

Ryuzaki set his cup down, watching the breeze shift through Haga's teal hair. He lifted his hand, and Ryuzaki realized a lady bug had landed on him and was crawling along the valleys and hills of his knuckles.

"Yeah, okay." Ryuzaki said. "Only if I get to pick the movie."

"No Jurassic Park."

"Yes Jurassic Park."

Haga made a disgusted face. "Fine."

"I'll be there at seven."

"Good, you should relax. I swear you get more gray in your hair every time I see you."

The food came and saved Ryuzaki from starting an argument. Haga was a little shit, and he kept telling himself that he didn't have to put up with him just because they were old dueling rivals … buddies … hell, they'd been through a lot actually, when Ryuzaki thought about it, though he tried not to think about it. The Shadow Realm wasn't something he liked to think about. After lunch, the paperwork didn't seem so daunting, not in comparison.

* * *

They sat on the couch with the lights off and the TV glowing. Haga wrapped his arm behind Ryuzaki's shoulders, a cheap high school dating trick. Ryuzaki crossed his arms over his chest, annoyed with the way Haga always tried to sneak his way through everything like a roach squeezing into a cookie jar.

"Why is it that you can never tell when a pterodactyl goes to the bathroom?" Ryuzaki asked.

"Don't you dare."

"Because the p is silent."

"Stop."

"What do you call a dinosaur with a huge vocabulary?"

"We're watching your stupid movie, isn't that enough?"

"Thesaurus."

Haga let out a frustrated noise.

"What's the matter? Am I bugging you?"

With that, Haga kissed him. Ryuzaki's eyes bulged in surprise. It was the boldest move Haga ever made, though he was constantly hinting. Usually, Ryuzaki dodged Haga's advances, but something about the bolder move made Ryuzaki pause, reconsider. Haga pulled away, turning his head.

"Sorry."

Ryuzaki guided Haga's face back in his direction. He took off the bothersome glasses, setting them aside so he could stare at Haga's face without obstructions. Haga stared back. They moved at the same time, hesitant. Their kisses were brief, and then their hands somehow managed to wander. They pulled at each other's belts, tearing into buttons and zippers and shoving cloth aside as they shifted onto the couch so that Ryuzaki could lay on top of Haga. They were both hard by the time the tips of their cocks brushed together.

Haga blushed and it stirred a primal instinct in Ryuzaki, to go harder, to go faster, to press hot flesh against hot flesh until they were both gasping. The friction was almost too much, but the moment was needful and the pleasure searing through them was sharp and intense, so Ryuzaki kept rocking his hips, kept sliding their cocks together, until he tossed his head back with a roar and came.

After he was done he pulled them both up and settled back into the couch with Haga in his lap. He grabbed Haga's cock, pumping it fast as Haga dug his fingers into Ryuzaki's shoulders for both balance and for the sheer act of holding onto something. And, in that moment as Haga bucked harder and harder into Ryuzaki's fist, he realized, perhaps for the first time, that they were more than insects with hard exoskeletons or cold blooded lizards. They were mammals after all, hot-blooded, with desires that went beyond fertilizing eggs. He could see it, on Haga's sweating, flushed face, as he watched him come.


	50. Glamourshipping / Auto Erotica

*****And this, oh my brothers, is the 50th cup of lemonade. I feel like I deserve a friggn' medal or something lol*****

* * *

Ever since college started, Miho didn't have a lot of _private_ moments, so when Mai said she'd be out with friends until past midnight, Miho wasted no time tossing her history book to the floor and shoving her hand down the front of her skirt. She'd been pent up for weeks, midterms weren't helping, and all she wanted was to rub herself into a flush, moaning mess so she could take a nap and then perhaps actually be able to concentrate on her homework for a change.

She started with light touches, closing her eyes, and wrinkling her brow in concentration. After a minute of tentative stroking, Miho's face relaxed and she sighed, enjoying the wet, velvety texture between her legs. She sighed again, hiking her hips up against her own touch. Miho bit her lower lips, feeling the pressure build quickly below her belly.

She set up a mild rhythm, lifting and lowering her hips in time with her own strokes. A very quiet moan slipped through her lips. Her fingers moved faster and her hips moved slower. Her legs squeezed together as she drew close.

"Um, um Miho?"

Mai's voice cut through the near-orgasmic haze of Miho's thoughts. She gasped, at first her name spoken out loud by her crush was a sharp trill humming from clitoris to navel, but as the reality set it that it was Mai's actual voice instead of a fantasy, Miho's face burned as she pulled the covers up over her nose to hide what she'd been doing.

"Mai?"

Mai stood near the door in a tight pair of jeans and a t-shirt that stretched across her heavy chest and showed off her washboard belly. She looked away, showing off her carefully contoured cheeks peeking out behind straw-colored curls of hair.

"Sorry, sorry. My asshole friends cancelled on me so I came home early. I slammed the door, but you didn't hear."

"Oh my god." Miho through the blanket over her face.

She wanted to die. She flat-out wanted to die. It the single most embarrassing moment of her life.

"Hey, no big deal."

She hear Mai say as she hid beneath her covers. The click of heels against the linoleum dorm room floor echoed as Mai walked closer.

"You know what they say, there's only two kinds of people in the world- masturbasters and lyers- and my momma didn't raise no liar."

A little giggle escaped Miho at the joke. She still wanted to die, though.

"And damn, like, I need to hide some cameras in here because I could make some money selling video of you on the internet- that was _hawt_."

"Mai!" Miho sat up, pulling the covers down enough so she could glare at her roommate.

Mai winked. "There you are. I thought that might get you to pop out from beneath the covers."

"Because you're awful." Miho would have blushed if her face hadn't already reached critical blush capacity when she'd heard Mai's voice.

Then Mai sat down on the bed next to Miho, and she realized that she could, in fact, go one more shade of red.

Mai smirked. "You really are cute. I wouldn't really hide a camera, but I can't promise that I'm going to forget what I saw any time soon. It's probably going to be all I can think about next time I decide to rub one out."

Even her neck was hot by that point. Miho blinked at Mai, feeling stupid and inexperienced. "D-do you really think about girls?"

"Yeah. Is that weird?"

"No." Miho shook her head as quickly as she could.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing!" Miho stared at the floor. "I-I mean, sometimes I think about what it would be like, to kiss another girl, but only boys ask me out, so I haven't had a chance to yet."

"Uh, would you like me to kiss you?"

Miho's stare whipped back to Mai. "Y-you would? I mean, only if you really want to!"

Mai pushed Miho gently into the mattress, hovering over her. Miho's cunt throbbed as Mai's weight settled on top of her. Mai tasted like mint-chocolate lip gloss, and Miho whimpered as their lips played against each other. She'd day-dreamed of a million scenarios so much like what was happening that she felt like she was imagining it.

Mai gave no indication that she wanted to stop kissing, and Miho sure wasn't going to suggest it, but it was hard to keep from squirming while Mai was pressed into the very spot that Miho desperately wanted pressure against.

Mai broke their kisses to chuckle. "Want to finish?"

"Uh- I, um-"

"Go ahead. Let me watch you and I'll let you watch me afterward."

It was too tempting, and Miho wanted it too much to feel shy. She pushed up against Mai so she could kick the blanket covering her towards the foot of the bed. Miho slipped out of her shirt, and then grabbed the hem of her plaid skirt, but Mai stopped her.

"Leave that on. It looks good on you."

Miho nodded, breathless, and slipped out of her panties. She slipped her hand back beneath her skirt. She'd been wet before, but now she was soaked and the slightest brush of her fingers sent jolts of pleasure up into her belly. She felt Mai's fingers pinch her nipple and Miho arched her back. She moaned more freely than before, trying to seduce Mai with each breath gasp and sigh.

Mai continued to roll and squeeze Miho's breasts, pinching her nipples and flicking the hard numbs with the pads of her thumbs. Miho moaned louder, less show and more need. Her thighs trembled and her ass clenched and she held her breath as an amazing wave swept her up and then crashed her back down into her own bed. Miho laid there, panting, heart pounding, hair sticking to the side of her face.

Her eyes grew lidded as she watched Mai slip out of her jeans and straddle Miho. She traced up and down her slit through black satin panties and Miho wondered how wet Mai was. Her question was answered went Mai hooked her mid finger to pull the black satin away from her skin, exposing lips glistening with her natural lubrication.

Miho unconsciously licked her lips as Mai slipped her mid and ring fingers between her lips, sliding down and curving up until both digits were shoved up into her entrance. She moved her fingers in and out, using her palm to press against her clit as she fingered herself into a frenzy. Her breast swelled, and her nipples protested against the fabric of her t-shirt.

Miho clenched her muscles again, hitching up against Mai's body weight. Her movement pulled a small coo from Mai's mouth. She bucked up again and Mai's hand worked a little faster. Mai sat right above Miho's pelvis, and each time she pressed up the pressure sent a wash of pleasure through Miho. She kept moving, circling her hips up into Mai as Mai rode her own fingers.

Miho grabbed Mai's hips, circling their bodies together until she was calling out a second time. Mai called out too, giving herself a few last hard thrusts with her fingers before dropping beside Miho and curling up to her. Miho sighed at Mai's body heat and breathed in the scent of her hair.


	51. Tendershipping/ Web

*****Friendly reminder: New prompts are closed. This is me still trying to get through my 2016 pile before the year ends. Tendershipping with Spider prosthetic porn was a request from a Tumblr anon*****

* * *

Bakura wrinkled his face. "Does this have a woman in it? I don't want to watch it."

"Oh, come on," Ryou said as he waited for the video to finished loading to his laptop. "Yugi recommended it. The spider prosthetics she wears are really creepy and realistic."

"I don't want a woman in my porn, I don't want a spider in my porn, and I sure as hell don't want to watch porn that Yugi's seen."

"Just let me watch it for the special effects and then we'll watch something else to get into the mood, okay?"

Bakura rolled his eyes, dropping down onto their bed as if he were too tired to argue or sit up.

"Whatever, but we'd better watch something hot afterward."

"I'll look up some DP videos as soon as this is over."

"Who said I was into that?" Bakura snapped, still flat on his back with his arms splayed out.

Ryou laughed. "Oh please, I see your browser history."

"Why are you creeping on my history?"

"Because you pick some good videos." Ryou winked. "And it's kind of hot jerking off to a video I know you jerked off to the day before."

Ryou's brazen talk managed to pull a flush across Bakura's cheeks.

"You fucking dirty perv."

Ryou crawled over the mattress until he loomed over Bakura. "Am I?"

He twisted Bakura's nipple through the fabric of his shirt, grinning when Bakura started to squirm. Ryou dipped down, testing his teeth against the softness of Bakura's neck. Bakura gasped, always weak against bites to the throat. Ryou fumbled with the button to Bakura's jeans.

"Mmmmm, maybe I should just pretend I'm a spider and tie you up in my web. My black rope came in yesterday. It'd look good on you."

Bakura hitched up. He didn't care _what_ Ryou did as long as he kept biting at his neck and fumbling with his cock like he was at that moment. He nodded his head, giving enthusiastic consent to the notion.

Ryou scrambled off of the bed, rushing to his bedroom closet where he stashed all his hanks of rope. He pulled out three black bundles and dashed back to the bed.

Ryou's mouth dropped open and his eyes grew bright and excited. "Oh my god, those really are incredible prosthetics."

"The hell?" Bakura sat up, confused by Ryou's statement.

He'd forgotten about the porn playing beside them. He noticed a woman, skin so dark it gleamed near-indigo in the camera light. She looked like a centaur, but instead of a horse's flank, she had a round arachnid's abdomen and eight jointed legs.

"Bullshit. That's CGI."

"No, it's an actress in prosthetics."

"No way. That looks to … yeah, fucking creepy was the right word." Bakrua shuddered. "Who jerks off to this?"

"People who love good special effects, I guess." Ryou chuckled. "Oh gross. This is making my skin crawl. I love it".

"You are fucked up, Ryou.".

"Pfff, you put me through unimaginable horrors and then ridicule me when I watch a harmless, fake video."

"Is it time to watch a real porn yet?"

"Nope. We're watching this until the end."

Bakura scrolled the mouse down to the bottom of the screen. "This is twenty five minutes long!"

"Well, I guess they wanted to get their time and money's worth for all the work they put in."

Bakura groaned, slamming his head back against the mattress. It only made Ryou laugh more.

"Don't worry. I think I can distract you to where you forget all about the scary spider."

Ryou ripped Bakura's shirt over his head and tugged his pants off. When Bakura was nothing more than a sleek, jagged, naked form, Ryou held his wrists together and fastened them in a double column bind. He kept glancing at the laptop, watching the spider tie men up in white, web-like thread and "devour" them with blowjobs.

"It still blows my mind how horrifying the legs look," Ryou said, working on a decorative harness on Bakura's chest. It had no function as far as bondage went. With Bakura, Ryou kept his rope work to aesthetic knots and designs, keeping only his wrists actually bound.

Bakura kept glancing and turning away. "It's dumb."

"Yeah? Why do you keep staring?"

"I'm not sure," Bakura glanced back to the laptop.

Ryou smacked the top down, shutting off his computer.

"I thought you wanted to watch the entire thing?" Bakura asked.

"Yeah, I did, but … I think I like my web-work better than hers." Ryou looked down at the contrast of black silk rope against white, white skin. "I'm getting my camera."

Now Bakura laughed. "Great. I wanted to watch some porn and somehow became the porn."

Ryou started to flash shots at Bakura from different angles. "The others will love these, especially Marik."

Bakura flashed a grin, hitching his hips up and seducing the camera lens with a rust-colored stare. "Think so?"

"I'm confident of it."

"Do I look that good?"

"Yes."

"Then put the camera down."

"A few more." Ryou stood on top of the bed to get a bird's eye shot of Bakura in his harness.

When he was done, he set the camera aside and started to suck at Bakura's nipples. Bakura flexed his chest, pressing up against Ryou's mouth and sighing.

"I bet you give a better blowjob than that actress."

"Is that what you want?"

Bakura flashed another grin. Ryou shifted down to Bakura's cock. It was still hard from Ryou's earlier toying, and the thought of Marik staring at his photos. Ryou teased around Bakura's cockhead with his tongue, flicking and with his tongue and kissing with his lips.

Bakura's wrists were tied, but his hands were free, so he reach down and yanked at Ryou's hair, trying to cram his cock fully into Ryou's mouth. Ryou continued to tease Bakura for a moment longer so that when he did drop his mouth down to Bakura's base, Bakura gave a deep-throated grunt of lust at the feeling.

"Yes … Ryou … yes, more, _mmmmm…_ "

Ryou began to suck, bobbing his head fast and allowing the tip of Bakura's cock to hit against the back of his throat. Bakura tugged Ryou's hair harder, groaning louder, hitching faster. His cock plumped in Ryou's mouth, the veins bulging. With a howl of pleasure Bakura released into Ryou's mouth. Ryou sucked down every last drop before pulling back and looking at Bakura, eyes closed and wisping, chaotic hair scattered everywhere. He couldn't help but grab his camera for a few more post-orgasm pictures. Bakura smiled, too sleepy and content to put on a sarcastic grin.

"You're gorgeous."

"Whatever."

"Hey, you look like me. Are you saying I'm not gorgeous?"

"Oh, shut up."

Ryou traded his camera for a bottle of lube, generously applying a layer to Bakura's asshole and pushing his fingers inside for a quick prepping. It wasn't long before Ryou was hooking Bakura's legs on his shoulders so he could angle downward and penetrate Bakura at one of his favorite angles. Bakura raised his hands over his head, gripping his pillow as best he could with his hands bound. His shouts echoed through the room.

Bakura was tight and hot. The lube let Ryou slide in and out with just the right amount of friction tugging at his cock. He kept his eyes open so he could watch the way Bakura writhed beneath him as he pounded into Bakura's flesh. Ryou started to whimper as his groin tightened and a strong orgasm swelled up within him.

He came and dropped Bakura's legs back down to the bed, making sure he untied Bakura's wrists before he lay down and closed his eyes. Ryou heard the soft click and whir of his camera. He opened his eyes and saw Bakura above him taking pictures.

"Vengeance?"

"You know that's my real kink."

Ryou smiled, gesture for Bakura to come closer. He sat up and pulled Bakura in his lap, pressing their faces together so they could be in the shot together.


	52. Euroshipping/ Office Sex

*****Well, not exactly in the office, but close enough*****

* * *

Seto sat at his desk working on his computer, laptop, and phone all at once. His mind was a full China set balanced on the tip of a broom handle. The ideas themselves were delicate and finely crafted, but the placement was tentative, precarious, ready to topple if a single thing went wrong.

"You do realize I've been watching you for three entire minutes, don't you?"

Seto's eyes flicked up at the sound of Ryou's voice. "Do you have a report?"

"It's not due until tomorrow afternoon, you know that."

"Sorry, I don't have time for lunch today."

"You need a break."

"I need to work." Seto went back to his computer to finish finalizing several documents.

He should have known better than to take his eyes off Ryou. He, like his less couth counterpart, was not only stealthy enough to sneak up on Seto when he was busy, but also had a cattish attitude about being ignored. Seto remembered this when Ryou's pants smacked him in the face.

"Please, Ryou."

"Already begging?" Ryou gave him a demure smile as he finished disrobing.

Seto moaned at the sight of Ryou's body. "It's not that I don't _want_ to, but you know how tight time is right now until we finish-"

Ryou was already crouched on his desk, leaning forward, and pressing a finger against Seto's mouth to hush him.

"You're doing that thing where you don't take care of yourself again. You know when you do that I make it my mission to take care of you instead."

Ryou's dexterity wasn't as good as Bakura's. He stood up and almost tripped over the laptop, blushing as he stumbled into Seto's chair and lap. As soon as he settled in, Seto's arms betrayed him and wrapped around Ryou's waist. Seto imagined tea cups crashing down on his marbled office floor.

"Two hours," Ryou whispered. "You'll get more work done after a power nap."

"Fuck," Seto swore, hand reaching out to his desk phone. He pressed the intercom, told his secretary to hold his calls for two hours, and then reached for his cell phone to set an alarm even as Ryou undid his tie.

At least Ryou was considerate of Seto's wardrobe. Last time it had been Bakura and he'd cut the tie with a dagger. Seto lifted Ryou up and pressed him against the glass wall that allowed Seto to stare out at Domino City whenever he had the urge. Ryou worked on Seto's buttons while Seto sucked Ryou's lips until his own burned with the friction. He set Ryou down, grabbing for his belt and struggling out of his pants.

"I think you need some fresh air." Ryou smiled.

"Why don't either of you ever do things simply?" Seto hissed, knowing Ryou had a mind to take him out on the balcony.

"For the XP?" Ryou raised a snowy eyebrow as he answered the question.

Seto eyed the narrow balcony on the other side of the glass, calculating. They were high up, too high up to be seen on the street. No other skyscrapers compared to the Kaiba Corp building. He knew the window washer's schedule and he wouldn't show up until Thursday. The thought of being hammered from behind while the wind tore at his hair made a shiver pull up from Seto's tailbone, all the way up his spine, and straight into his brain.

"Dammit, yes." Seto pushed opened the glass door and walked out into the open air.

The wind was _cold_. It reminded him of being on the blimp during Battle City. The sun was at the side of the building, present enough to make the sky bright and gorgeous blue- like the eyes of his favorite dragon- but not in their line of vision to where the glare would bother them.

He was still staring at the sky when he felt Ryou grab him and bend him over against the rail. Ryou snaked his fingers into Seto's hair and ran a hand up and down the curve of Seto's ass.

"Nice view, isn't it?"

Seto snickered, knowing what Ryou was actually staring at. The world was small and dizzying below them and Seto did have a good view bent over the railing as he was. Cold, wet fingers slipped inside him without warning and Seto jerked. He was used to prepping, but he wondered where the lube came from. More than once, Seto had found small bottles stashed in odd places in his office: hidden in a pot of ivy, tapped beneath the desk, slipped between the cushions of the leather sofa in his office that Seto used for naps. However, he never imagined they'd have a bottle hidden outside, although he knew better than to underestimate them by this point.

Ryou pulled his hand back. Seto relaxed, waiting for that heart-stopping moment where Ryou slammed inside, but it didn't come. Instead, Ryou leaned over and started kissing the nape of Seto's neck and kneading his shoulders.

Seto sighed. It wasn't what he was expecting, but it was appreciated. He hadn't realized how much tension he was holding in his body until Ryou started working it out one knot at a time. He was quick and efficient, traveling down Seto's back and using Seto's bent over position to massage his thighs and calves as well. Only after Ryou finished another round on the small of Seto's back that Ryou finally slipped inside him.

Seto groaned. He'd lost so much tension from the massage that when Ryou entered him, it'd been quick and easy. Ryou took his time, carefully holding Seto's hips and rocking at an easy, soothing pace. Seto sighed, resting his arms and chin on the railing and enjoying the ebb and pull of Ryou's movements mixed with the intermittent jolts of euphoria that happened each time Ryou teased Seto's prostate with the tip of his cock.

Seto's lids went half mast over his eyes. He watched the world below with calm, passive observation, feeling a bit like a god up on Olympus and indifferent to human concerns while he and Ryou made love high above the bothersome world.

"Seto," Ryou moaned, and the sound of Seto's name made his stomach hitch in pleasure. "Ngh, I can't wait!"

Ryou reached for Seto's cock and started to stroke him. His speed quickened, each thrust pushing deeper than before. Pang after pang of rapture seized Seto's guts as Ryou turned their gentle lovemaking into a free fall towards orgasm. Seto bit his lip, held his breath, feeling himself poised on the edge of bliss, so near, so near, god so near, but not quite yet.

"Seto. Gods. Seto. I'm coming!"

Ryou's screaming was like a summons for Seto to come with him. He gripped the railing and tossed back his head. His eyelashes fluttered, but he could only see a sky that was so damn blue.

Seto slumped forward, thankful for the railing to support him. Ryou trailed kisses up his spine and traced patterns along the curves of Seto's hips.

"I love that your office is essentially a small apartment. We can take a quick shower and lay down on the sofa for an hour."

Seto was grinning. He kept his head down to hide it. "And then you're going to let me get some actual work done?"

"I'd rather curl in your lap and play videogames."

"Bring dinner later and I'll eat with you while I run my final reports." He stood up, looking at Ryou.

Ryou stood on his toes as high as he could, barely reaching Seto's lips for a kiss. "That's a fair compromise."


	53. Tornshipping/ Hanami

*****This prompt was for Tornshipping with a kink, and I figured that outside sex would be Marik's Ultimate Kink*****

* * *

"It's cold." Marik shivered, pulling his jacket closer to his body.

"Don't worry, Marik. It'll warm up as soon as the sun finishes rising," Ryou said, a picnic basket in his hand.

"Isn't it early for a hanami?" Marik rubbed his arms through the jacket sleeves.

"Suspicious?" Bakura smirked, flashing teeth. "Maybe we've brought you out here to kill you and dump the body before anyone else wakes up."

"I'd be impressed with your initiative," Marik said in a dry voice.

"But Bakura has a point. No one's out here yet." Ryou gestured to the empty park. "In a few days when the weekend comes and the temperature's warmer, this park will be swarming with people. But today's Monday and it's really cold today. We'll have the park to ourselves."

"Not that I don't appreciate the private party, but maybe we can come back at noon when it's a little warmer?"

"No." Bakura combed down one of his white bat wings with his fingers as if Marik's suggestion wasn't worth much thought. "I'll be asleep by then."

"You lazy bastard. Staying awake during the day won't kill you."

"I'm sorry, but could we stay a little longer?" Ryou asked. "I want to see the sakura for at least a few minutes. Once we get started, if you're still cold I promise we'll go, but I think you'll warm up quite nicely."

"Do you have a spot in mind?" Bakura asked Ryou.

"Yes. It's not much further now."

The grass was frost-coated beneath their feet and their breath rose from their mouths like white comic book dialogue bubbles. Ryou lead them off of the path and through a thicket of trees and shrubs.

"This is a little ridiculous." Marik pulled a twig out of his golden hair. "Why didn't we stay on the trail?"

"Because I don't want to get caught." Ryou smiled.

Marik narrowed his eyes. "What are you two planning?"

Bakura blinked wide, innocent eyes. "Us? Planning? Marik, that's hurtful."

"Uh-huh. So? What's the scheme?"

They reached a little patch of ground where the canopy thinned. Above them was pink blooms and cerulean sky. Ryou knelt against the frosty ground and pulled out a thick quilt from his basket, fashioning a sort of nest.

"Wouldn't it be better to sit somewhere with a wider view?" Marik asked.

Ryou looked up and smiled, patting the blanket beneath him and encouraging Marik to sit down. Marik rolled his eyes and obeyed.

"Still cold?"

"See my breath floating out of my mouth?"

"Here." Ryou held Marik's face, pulling him in for a soft, warm kiss.

Marik felt Bakura behind him, pressing close to share their body heat, and shifting Marik's hair to the side so he could knead his lips against the side of Marik's neck. Marik's stomach braided itself in excitement. He pulled away, staring at Ryou's warm, brown eyes.

"Is this going where I think this is going?"

"I brought your favorite blanket, the extra soft one. Do you think your back will be okay if we laid you down?" Ryou blushed. "We thought you might like to look at the sky the entire time."

Marik's mouth dropped and his lower stomach hitched. He struggled with his belt and shoes, kicked off his pants. He forgot about the cold as Ryou and Bakura helped him out of his shirt and pants. Marik's nipples were rigid and he shivered as they laid him down and smothered his body in kisses, but Marik was too excited to complain anymore.

Marik spread his legs, eager for them to begin, cock already hard at just the _thought_ of them having sex outside.

"I thought you might like this." Bakura grinned through several kisses leading up to Marik's frozen-stiff nippples.

"This couldn't be _your_ idea."

"I can have a good idea from time to time."

The wind picked up, so cold it felt jagged. Marik couldn't suppress the whimper that escaped his mouth. The breeze pulled several blossoms from the trees. Marik watched one drift down and land in Bakura's hair with a few stray petals. He had a goofy grin on his face, one that betrayed the excitement he felt, and the combination of sunlight, and pink blossoms, and that insufferable smile made Marik's heart skip beats.

"Bakura, look at the gooseflesh on his arms. Let's get him truly warmed." Ryou handed Bakura a bottle of lube.

A rare blush consumed Marik's face. It was rather clear that he was going to bottom, a less frequent, though not unprecedented occurrence with Ryou, but in the three years they'd been intimate together, Marik was rather sure Bakura had never topped.

Bakura brushed Marik's cheek with his fingertips. "Looks like he's warming up to me." Bakura's gentle expression turned to shock and he called out. "Ryou, that's cold!"

"Sorry, sorry." Ryou giggled as he started prepping Bakura even as Bakura poured lube onto his own fingers.

Bakura sighed and inserted his fingers into Marik's asshole. Marik gasped, trying to relax despite the cold.

"If your back hurts at all, let us know," Bakura said.

Marik nodded, feeling pampered as another round of flowers floated down into Bakura and Ryou's long, sheer white hair.

"The ground's so cold I think my back's numb," Marik teased.

"Do you want a different position-"

"No." Marik spread his legs wider to punctuate his point, holding his inner thighs.

Bakura struggled when pushing inside, his inexperience apparent. Once he managed, he stopped and panted a bit. His rust-colored eyes were glazed, and his jaw slack.

Marik grinned. "How do I feel?"

"Warm," Bakura sighed, easing out only two centimeters and testing his ability to push back inside. Bakura groaned, loud and throaty. "Nnngh!"

Ryou had the patience of a saint as he waited for Bakura to get used to moving his hips back and forth in order to penetrate Marik over and over.

"Like the show?" Marik teased him.

Ryou slid his hand up his hard cock, letting that answer Marik's question. Eventually, Ryou positioned himself behind Bakura, stabbing into his body quickly.

"Oooooh gods!" Bakura threw his head back. "Gods, gods, gods!"

_And_ that's _why they always had Bakura bottom_.

With Ryou setting the pace, Bakura thrusted with more confidence. Each time he slipped inside, Marik moaned, enjoying the experience. His hands reached out past the blanket and tugged at the grass. The frost melted at his touch, hands warm as his heart danced.

The sun was higher in the sky and everything was saturated with color and light. It took Marik's breath away. There was a time when he thought he'd never have moments like these, never see blue sky or feel cold ground beneath a back scarred and ruined for the sake of the Pharaoh. He didn't even know what a Sakura was before he moved to Japan, never imagined the soft, true pink color of blooms announcing the spring.

"Marik? Is your back hurting?" Bakura whispered, his thumb tracing below Marik's eye and wiping away a tear.

Marik was overwhelmed with emotion, but he knew he had to answer or they'd stop, and Marik couldn't handle them stopping.

"It's so beautiful," Marik whispered, voice choked and strained.

Bakura gave Marik's neck a quick nuzzle before picking his pace back up. Ryou's arms were laced around Bakura's midsection

Bakura called out without warning, body tensing and then going slack.

Marik hummed in approval, combing a flower out of Bakura's hair and kissing it.

"Want a blow job?" Bakura asked.

Marik's cock twitched at the thought. Ryou stopped his thrusts so they could reposition. Bakura rose on hands and knees, and Ryou continued to pound him from behind as Marik traced the head of his cock along the perimeter of Bakura's parted, willing lips.

Marik guided himself into Bakura's mouth, sighing at the warmth and wetness suddenly surrounding his cock and making his ass muscles clench in pleasure. It helped that he had the most gorgeous view in the world, Ryou fucking Bakura silly with a backdrop of cherry trees and early spring sky. Marik rocked his hips back and forth. Ryou started gasping, his face more pink that the sakura petals. He came with his own name on his lips, and Marik started calling out the name with him as his own orgasm crested and peaked. _Bakura, Bakura, Bakura._


	54. happy birthday supersteffy/ Puppyshipping

“Who let you in here?”  Seto asked as soon as he saw Jounouchi marching into his office.

 

“Mokuba.”

 

Seto sighed. It  _ would _ have been the one person Seto wouldn’t fire. “What do you want, Mutt?”

 

“I want you to fucking act like a real man and not some robot in a suit. Your brother’s worried sick. He says you haven’t taken a day off in an  _ entire month _ .”

 

“So what? I have work to do.”

 

“You selfish prick! Don’t you see your brother’s concerned about you?” Jounouchi tossed a bag onto the desk. “Change and let’s go.”

 

“Change? Go?” Seto raised an eyebrow, not amused.

 

“Bitch, I didn’t stutter.” 

 

“Be careful who you call bitch,  _ Mutt _ .” 

 

“Damn, Seto, I’m just dragging you out of the office for a night. It won’t kill you to experience what it’s like to be  _ normal _ for a few hours.” 

 

“What’s with the costume?” Seto frowned at the bag again, peeking instead. He saw blue jeans, a t-shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes.

 

“I already told you-  _ normal _ \- we’re going to pretend that you’re freaking normal for a night. Gotta dress the part, man.” 

 

Seto sighed. His brother must have been desperate if he’d gone to Yugi and the others, although why they decided to send Jounouchi of all people … perhaps to annoy Seto into participating in this wasteless exercise of  _ normality _ . 

 

“What are we going to do?”

 

“Grab a bite, go hang out at the arcade, I don’t know. Whatever, as long as you’re not working.”

 

Seto wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Sounds like a date.”

 

“A- what? Dude! I’m just doing your brother a favor! Don’t make it weird.” Jounouchi crammed his hands in his pockets, turning and snorting. Seto realized that Jounouchi’s cheeks were tinted. “Who would want to date a prick like you?”

 

Seto sighed, shutting his laptop. “I suppose I do need to eat something.” He stood, glaring at Jounouchi. “I’ll play along with the charade for Mokuba’s sake, but we’re only getting something to eat and then I’m getting back to work.”

 

“Whatever man, hurry up then. I could be hanging out with the others and actually having fun right now instead of dealing with your sorry ass.”  

 

“You’re breaking my heart, Jounouchi.”  Seto left to the bathroom in his office and changed into the gawdawful, common clothing.

 

He was surprised everything fit, and realized that Mokuba must have picked out the clothes. The shirt was even white with a blue stripe (a likely reference to the Blue Eyes White Dragon). Seto couldn’t be mad at his brother for trying to make him take a break, but  _ Jounouchi Katsuya _ of all people? 

 

Seto looked at himself in the mirror. It was surreal, to see himself dressed like anyone else, like his last name wasn’t plastered on merchandise across the world. Pounding on the door broke Seto away from his thoughts. 

 

“Oi! Kaiba! Hurry the hell up! You’re the one that wants to get this over with!”

 

Seto rolled his eyes as he opened the door. He smirked. “Does that mean you  _ don’t _ want to get this over with?”

 

Jounouchi’s mouth dropped a little. “Quit putting words in my mouth, Money Bags, and let’s go.”  

 

“I’ll call for the limo to meet us out-”

 

Jounouchi started laughing. “Limo? Hell no. What part of normal do you not get? We’re walking.”

 

“That will take longer.” Seto frowned. 

 

“Life’s hard, dude.” 

 

Seto growled as he followed Jounouchi out of the office and into the elevator. It was weird having to stand close to Jounouchi in the elevator. Seto noticed the cologne he wore. He was sure it was some cheap, department store garbage, but he couldn’t help admitting that on Jounouchi it smelled … nice. Seto was glad when they were out of Kaiba Corp HQ and on the streets where they could put some natural distance between them as they walked. 

 

“So what’s keeping you so busy, anyway?” Jounouchi asked.

 

“Oh, is this where we engage in mandatory small talk? Is that part of the date?” 

 

“I wish I could slug you so bad.” 

 

“Don’t we need a safeword for that sort of thing?”

 

“Do you ever just talk without being a smartass?” Jounouchi shouted, gritting his teeth once he stopped speaking. 

 

Seto smirked once again. “It’s too easy to rile you up, Mutt.”

 

“You know that ain’t my name.”

 

“Don’t you mean ‘isn’t my name’?”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

Half a laugh managed to escape Seto. “Shouldn’t we wait until the end of our date?”

 

“You  _ know _ that’s not what I meant!”

 

“But it’s what you said.”

 

“Fine! Fine.” Jounouchi crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not gonna let you bait me. Instead of hanging out and trying to act like real people for a change, we can just eat in silence and then you can go back to killing yourself in an office- and for what? You have more money than you could spend. What’s the damn point?” 

 

Seto shrugged. “It’s what I was groomed for.”

 

“Groomed? And you call  _ me _ a mutt? Does that make you some pedigree poodle?”  

 

“Wow, Jounouchi, that was actually somewhat witty. I’m impressed.”  

 

“Oh well, now that you’re impressed I guess I can die happy.” 

 

They both chuckled, but Seto stopped as soon as he realized that they were sharing a laugh. He didn’t want to delude Jounouchi into thinking that Seto was going to convert to the friendship cult any time soon. Still, he had to accept that the late afternoon air and sunshine  _ was _ a nice contrast to the inside of his office. Yet, just as Seto was thinking that maybe his forced adventure wasn’t so bad, Jounouchi stopped in front of the door of Burger World.

 

“Why are we here?”

 

“For dinner. Why else would we be at a restaurant?”  

 

“This isn’t a restaurant. This is a deathtrap that encourages heart disease, obesity, and-” 

 

“Oh my god, Kaiba! Calm down. One night of burgers and fries isn’t going to kill you.”

 

“But my nutritionist schedules my-”

 

“Blah, blah, blah, I’m too rich. Blah, blah, blah, forgot to even act like a person. Blah blah blah, but you’re a mutt, Katsuya. Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. Could you like, shut up for five minutes and just enjoy life?” 

 

Seto raised an eyebrow. “So I call you Katsuya in your inner dialogue?”

 

“What? No.” Jounouchi grabbed Seto and pulled him into the restaurant. 

 

Seto smiled. It really was too easy to rile the mutt up. Jounouchi ordered for both of them. Seto pulled out his wallet to pay, but Jounouchi overlapped his hand on top of Seto’s to stop him. 

 

“Your money’s no good here.” 

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean I got it. My treat.”

 

“Jounouchi, you know that I-”

 

“Yeah, you make more money in a day than I’ll ever see in my life. So what? You shouldn't have to pay for everything just because you can.” Jounouchi paid for their food, turning back and grinning. “Besides, that’s what friends do, y’know? Buy each other dinner and stuff.” 

 

“Is this where I see the error in my solitary ways and vow to get your food next time, suggesting that there’ll be a next time, and therefore cementing our tentative friendship?”

 

“Yeah, you could do all that. Or you could just shut the fuck up and not be a douchebag for five minutes.”  

 

“Dinner would probably be easier.”  

 

“Now who’s acting like he wants to hang out again?”

 

“Yes. Can’t you see how much fun I’m having? I’m a changed man.”

 

Jounouchi grabbed their trays and carried them to a empty table. Seto sat down and tried to accept the fact that he was actually going to eat the mass of saturated fat, processed carbs, and preservatives in from of him.  He took a bite. 

 

It tasted better than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t that Seto had never eaten a burger before, but when he did, it was usually deconstructed onto his plate and served with goat cheese and cherry-pineapple chutney.  This thing he was currently eating was greasy, but that was the appeal. 

 

“It’s good,” Seto admitted in defeat. 

 

“Of course! Bacon cheeseburgers are the best.” Jounouchi looked straight at Kaiba. “You know, you really should hang out with all of us once in awhile. We crowd into a booth, and eat crap, and tease each other, and talk about Duel Monsters- that’s all stuff you’d like to do.” 

 

Seto sighed. “I really don’t have time.” 

 

“I get it. Kaiba Corp was  _ his _ , and you’ve made it yours and now you have to make sure it’s always better than what he had, but … what’s the point if you don’t enjoy life once in awhile, Seto?” 

 

“There you go with the first names again.”

 

“Because I’m trying to show you that I’m being serious.” Jounouchi sighed. “You know why they sent me instead of Yugi?” 

 

Seto looked up, honestly curious. “Why?”

 

“Because I’d do anything for my little sister in the same way you’d do anything for your little brother. Because I know what it’s like to have a monster for an old man … because we’re a lot alike. Out of everyone in the group, I’m the one that understands you the most.”  

 

“What’d … your father …” Seto looked away. He wanted to know, but he realized it was an inappropriate question. 

 

“Mostly get drunk and beat the fuck out of me. Other stuff too, I guess. He liked to remind me every day that I was stupid and worthless and wouldn’t amount to anything.”  

 

“You're not stupid,” Seto said too quickly. He looked away again. “I mean, you lack formal education, but that’s not the same.”

 

“Thanks, Seto.” 

 

Seto let the first name slide that time. They finished their food, allowing their conversation to slip into Duel Monsters which was a rather safe conversation for them since they both loved high powered dragon cards. 

 

Seto lost track of time, a miracle or a concern, depending on perspective. He noticed the sun setting and stood up. 

 

“It’s late.”

 

“Oh, sorry.” Katsuya scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish. “When I get on a rant about spell cards, I go on forever.”  

 

Seto caught himself smiling. “Perhaps, but you’re only half the loser you used to be. Not many people can hold a conversation with me on fusions.” 

 

Katsuya stood up and took away their trays. “I guess I should walk you back to your office now.”

 

“I think I’ll go home, instead. It’s late … at this point I might as well turn in, get some sleep, and try to double up on work tomorrow.”

 

Katsuya grinned, his face eternally boyish because he always looked excited. “Mokuba will be glad to hear you took the entire night off.”  

 

“Tell him I was fine and this was all unnecessary.” 

 

“Yeah, because he’ll believe that.” 

 

Seto didn’t argue because he knew it was true. Katsuya followed Seto out of the restaurant, and down the street. He kept his hands in his pockets while Seto kept his arms crossed around his chest. 

 

“So…” Katsuya began, but didn’t finish.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Nothing. Guess I was just trying to fill the dead air.” Katsuya shrugged.

 

Another moment of silence as Seto tried to think of what he wanted to say  _ to fill the dead air _ .  

 

“You know, you rip on me for not being “normal” but I could say the same for you. My life is normal to me. You’re the abnormal one. Have you have owned a tailored suit? Eaten  _ consommé _ at a French restaurant? Ridden home in a limo?”

 

“Well, we did ride in your limo that one time, but Mokuba was trying to kill us with that poisoned food game of his.”

 

“He’s always been a good little brother.” Seto smiled at the memory.

 

“And then you tried to kill us during Death-T.”

 

“Yeah.” Seto’s smiled faltered. 

 

“Like, really fucked up man, I had to set a dude on fire.” 

 

“Oh please, Yugi used to set people on fire all the time. I’ve heard some of the stories.”

 

“That was the Other Yugi. Yeah, I guess he was the one that gave me the lighter.”

 

“Hmmm.”  

 

There was another pause. Seto had a strange, sinking weight in his stomach. He’d been trying to reach out, and the only good it did was give Jounouchi a chance to shove the past back in Seto’s face. 

 

“Holy shit, dude, I’m sorry.”

 

“For what?” Seto glanced at Jounouchi.

 

“You were trying to ask me on a high-class date, weren’t you?”

 

“Not a date,” Seto muttered. “I just thought if you were going to drag me away from work every time Mokuba whined, then next time we’d do something different.”  

 

“How about next Friday night?”

 

Seto pulled out his schedule.

 

“Why are you even checking that? You know it’s crammed full.” 

 

“To see if it’s re-schedulable or not.”

 

“Oh … and?”

 

Seto smirked. “I’ll send an assistant over to your place Monday morning to get your measurements.” 

 

The reached the gate to Seto’s mansion. They stood still and stared at the sidewalk for a minute. 

 

“Do you drink coffee?”

 

“You know, if this  _ were  _ a date, I’d think you were trying to seduce me.” Katsuya leaned a little closer, giving Seto a sleepy stare.

 

“So are you coming or not?”

 

“Well, not yet.” He winked. 

 

Seto rolled his eyes and buzzed a security guard to let them into the gate. They could have gotten a ride to the manor, but Seto figured Katsuya would prefer walking. He bumped Seto’s shoulder as they walked in silence. Seto pretended to frown and brush dust from his shirt sleeve which made Katsuya laugh. 

 

They did not go to the parlor for coffee. 

 

Seto dismissed his servants and lead Katsuya straight to his bedroom. The moment the door shut Katsuya had Seto pinned to the door. They fisted the cotton of each other's t-shirts, holding on as they kissed. Seto felt himself growing hard, and hated the tight, uncomfortable way his blue jeans felt, so he ripped off his clothes. Katsuya did the same, and they stumbled towards the bed together. 

 

They continued to kiss, Katsuya latching onto Seto’s throat and sucking hard. Seto moaned, but then pushed him away because he didn’t want a mark. They grabbed each other’s cocks, rubbing them against each other, and gasping as they tried to kiss. Neither mentioned all the little scars the other had; cigarette burns, or corner scars shaped like belt buckles, whip stripes on Seto and jagged, nasty fairy rings that looked like they were caused by broken beer bottles on Katsuya. Maybe one day they’d talk about them. Maybe one day they’d lie in bed and trace gnarled white imperfections and exchange proper stories, but at that moment it was enough that they understood what the scars were, and they didn’t have to feel self-conscious because it was a burden they both shared. 

 

Seto grabbed his bottle of lube from a cache hidden in his head board and started prepping Katsuya. After a few moments, Katsuya pushed Seto away and crawled into his lap, impaling himself without prompt or fanfare. He gripped Seto’s shoulder for balance with one hand and used the other to tug at Seto’s hair like reins. 

 

Seto dug his fingers into Katsuya’s waist, helping him bounce up and down a little faster. Their breaths came out in stifled grunts as sweat glazed their brows. Seto shifted, wrapping his arm around Katsuya  and freeing up a hand to stroke him. Katsuya’s grunts became small whines. He moved faster. Seto buried his face against Katsuya’s chest, feeling himself shiver and then come. Katsuya bucked into Seto’s closed fist until he spurted onto Seto’s stomach. 

 

They sat together, catching their breath. Slowly, Katsuya looked up, staring into Seto’s eyes. He gave him an apologetic grin. 

 

“What’s with that look?” Seto asked.

 

“I just don’t believe tonight ended like it did.” 

 

Seto snorted. “It wasn’t because you have good taste in food.”

 

“Yeah?” Katsuya’s expression turned into a charming grin. “Then what was it?”  

 

Seto traced some of the bigger scars on Katsuya’s belly with his fingertips. He wasn’t sure how to put what he wanted to say into words, so instead he grabbed Katsuya’s hand, kissed his fingers, and rested them on a round scar on his left pectoral muscle. 

 

“Gozaburo called me into his office. He was smoking a cigar…”

 


	55. Deathshipping/ Bodybuilder AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was from someone here on A03. They wanted Bodybuilder Au with Keith, but (thank you sweet requester) they let me swap Keith for Mariku (because I decided that Bandit Keith smut yakes me out 
> 
> So sorry about the wait, hope you like this

Every morning Mariku woke up and cooked six egg whites and spooned them into his mouth with six walnut halves. He washed it all down with pre-workout dissolved in water. Then he went to the gym and worked out for two straight hours. After a recovery protein shake, he did forty five minutes of interval training, lifted for another two hours, and then hit the showers.

He drank protein powder mixed with water on his commute home to tide him over until he could cook lunch, which was always half of a pound of chicken, half a sweet potato, and all the vegetables he wanted. A few hours later he'd eat the same thing, and for dinner he get fish with a cup of pasta and steamed broccoli. Sundays were rest days, pancakes for breakfast, beer and pizza for dinner.

Every afternoon when Mariku left, he saw Ryou leaving his afternoon yoga class. Ryou was slender as a willow branch and white as milk, and Mariku always thought it'd be nice to see just how flexible all the yoga made him.

They always exited the gym at the same time, and Mariku always held the door open for Ryou.

"Thank you," Ryou said as he stepped through the door.

"You're beautiful- fuck- I mean you're welcome."

Holy fuck, why'd he take that extra scoop of pre-workout? He was wired and hadn't been paying attention to his words until the truth had flown from his mouth.

But Ryou didn't seem offended. In fact, he blushed and smiled. "Th-thank you." He fidgeted for a moment before asking, "You work out every day. Do you do competitions?"

Mariku scratched the back of his head, making his way to his car. "A few. Local ones."

"Do you win?" Ryou followed him to the parking lot.

"Usually."

"You look like you'd win." His face widened in surprise at his words. "I mean, because you train so hard every day."

"Yeah, but…" He started rubbing his shoulders. "I'm always sore."

"You should try yoga." Ryou smiled. "Sometimes you big, strong brutes forget how important it is to streatch."

"Yeah, I'm pretty bad about it," Mariku confessed, his voice dropping to a sleepy tone. "Maybe you could show me the basics some time."

Ryou bit his lower lip, thinking as he stared at the muscles bursting from Mariku's black tank top. He reached into his bag and brought out a pen and paper. He shoved half a sheet of paper into Marik's hand.

"Seven. Friday. I like moscato."

Mariku grinned at the phone number written on the torn sheet of paper.

* * *

Mariku arrived fives minutes early with a chilled, high-end bottle of moscato wine and a single, white rose.

"Thank you. Why white?" Ryou smiled at the flower, smelling it.

"Made me think of you."

"Smooth." Ryou laughed. "Come inside. Dinner's ready." Ryou lead him to the kitchen, getting a corkscrew for the wine.

"Did you cook?"

"Yes. I love cooking." Ryou poured them each a generous glass. "I figured you'd want chicken, so I made chicken breast, steamed broccoli, and penne."

"Damn, that sounds great."

The food was amazing. Ryou even cooked a double portion of chicken for Mariku, and he appreciated it. He'd planned on skipping his cheat day in order to justify whatever the ended up doing for dinner, so he was surprised and pleased that his dinner wasn't so far from his usual fare that it would hurt his regimen. And who knew? Perhaps the night would go well and Ryou also liked pizza and beer on Sundays?

"So I bet the gym keeps you pretty busy," Ryou said, trying to break the silence that had settled over them as they ate.

"Yeah, gym all morning, and I work at my brother's bike shop in the afternoons."

"And at night?"

"This and that." Mariku winked. Then he actually thought about the question and added. "I'm a bit of a nerd, actually. I've been playing the Mad King's Keep on my PC."

"Oh my god!" Ryou gasped, his face glowing in delight. "I've been into Monster World games since the sixth grade. I was so excited when they adapted a campaign to a video game."

"Yeah, same." Marik grinned. "I updated my graphics card just to play it, but it was worth it."

"We'll have to start LANNing some time."

"I'd like that."

"Um…" Ryou blushed. "Want a mint?"

"Please." He gave Ryou a knowing smile.

Ryou cleared the table and brought back a bowl of chocolate mint candies. They ate them in an awkward silence. Ryou's eyes kept darting to Mariku's broad chest.

"You look nice. I'm not used to seeing you in regular clothes."

"Yeah, same." He laughed.

Ryou bit his bottom lip, then blurted out. "Want to see my bedroom?"

"Oh? Is that where your gaming PC is?"

"No, but it's where my bed and condoms are."

"Fuck yes." Mariku stood up so fast that he almost knocked his chair over.

He grabbed Ryou and slung the willowy male over his thick shoulder. Ryou giggled.

"Which way?" Mariku asked.

"All the way down the hall."

Mariku carried Ryou to his room, slamming him against the wall once there and going straight for Ryou's mouth. They wasted no time and neither was shy, using tongues straight away and tugging at each other's hair.

Their belts were tugged off and discarded, Ryou was careful with unbuttoning Mariku's shirt, but in a fit of lust, Mariku ripped Ryou's shirt down the center to get it off as fast as he could.

"Uh-" he stuttered, realizing what he'd done.

"That's fucking hot," Ryou moaned, biting Mariku's neck.

He decided then that he very much liked Ryou and only set him down long enough to drop their pants to the floor before slamming him back against the wall. Mariku crammed two fingers down Ryou's throat, getting them both drenched in spit before pressing them into Ryou's ass. He fucked Ryou hard and fast with the two fingers until Ryou's nails cut into his copper shoulders, then he curved them up and started ramming them against Ryou's prostate.

"Fuck yes!" Ryou threw his head back so fast that he smacked it against the wall.

"You okay?" Mariku started pulling out his fingers to check the back of Ryou's head.

"Don't stop!" he begged, curling forward again. "Please don't stop!"

He pressed deeper, brushing his fingers right where Ryou wanted them.

"I'm gonna come!" Ryou wailed in a hoarse, raw voice.

Mariku pulled away.

"I said don't stop!" Ryou yanked his hair, desperate for his fingers again.

"Where are those condoms?" He licked his lips at the pain. Yes, yes, he definitely liked Ryou.

"Top drawer. Hurry."

Mariku dumped Ryou on the bed, intentionally rough, before opening a drawer full of lube, condoms, rope, beads, plugs, and a dong.

"Holy shit."

"I told you to hurry."

Mariku couldn't help thinking _always wanted me a freak like this_ as he rolled the condom over his cock and added water based lube. Fortunately Ryou had a range of sizes, because Mariku busted out of regular condoms like the Hulk busted out of his street clothes.

He knelt onto the bed, grabbing both of Ryou's legs and hooking Ryou's ankles over his shoulder. He didn't ease in, nor did he give Ryou time to adjust. He dove straight in, gritting his teeth at how perfectly fucking tight Ryou felt around his cock.

He stabbed into Ryou, balls deep each time. Ryou clawed at the sheets, face bright red, hair scattered around and across his face. He turned from side to side, screaming out praise and curses with each exhale of breath.

Mariku leaned forward a little so he could use gravity to slam his weight down deeper.

"There!" Ryou shrieked. "Holy fuck there! There! There! Shit!" Come spurted out of Ryou's cock like long strings of pearls, several of them.

"Impressive." Mariku whistled at the sight of white come on white skin as he spread Ryou's legs, putting an ankle on each shoulder this time instead of both feet together.

"I'm keeping you," Ryou whispered, eyelashes fluttering, and Mariku knew Ryou would sleep as well as he would that night.

"Keeping me, eh?" Mariku grinned, thrusting hard and slow to recover from the exertion and allow some of the sweat to evaporate from his skin.

Ryou grunted in affirmation. He raised up a single eyelid. "I love brutes, but most of them can't keep up with me." Ryou tsk-tsked. "Not enough cardio."

Mariku gave him a wink, and then picked his pace back up, more than ready to come himself and take a nap. Ryou grabbed Mariku's shoulders, pulling himself up. It was a little odd, but Ryou was flexible and Mariku was strong enough to pull the position off. With Ryou's arms around Mariku's neck, he bounced Ryou up and down on his cock until every fucking muscle clenched in his gut and he worried that he might have busted his condom after all.

They dropped like two corpses onto the bed. Mariku checked, the condom was fine, and he peeled it off and threw it in the trash. He noticed Kleenex on the nightstand and he pulled a few from the box and used them to wipe Ryou down.

"Thank you," Ryou said, eyes a little wide with surprise that Mariku was considerate enough.

"You shouldn't date thugs." He scolded although it really wasn't any of his business, but the afterglow had Mariku feeling both possessive and affectionate.

"Maybe I should date a body building computer nerd instead." Ryou pulled Mariku down onto his thin chest.

He felt his cheeks burn a little, glad that his skin was dark enough to hid any blush. "Do you like beer and pizza?"

"That's my favorite cheat meal." Ryou giggled.

"I think I'm keeping you, too." Mariku flipped them so that Ryou was resting on his chest instead.


	56. Role Play/ Thiefshipping/ Fetishshipping/ Conspireshipping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't going to post this until much later, but I'm messing around with a google docs to ao3/html program just to see how it works

Ryou sat on the sofa, curled in his favorite blanket and reading one of his favorite mangas. The tranquility was destroyed when Bakura and Marik threw open the door and slammed it behind them. Ryou looked up, something had them more riled up than usual.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Bakura snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling in a way that told Ryou he’d been fighting with the Pharaoh.

“We have to plan this, Bakura.” Marik smirked, much calmer, but Ryou knew Marik well enough to know he was seething beneath the calm veneer of his.

“You’re not planning to kill him again, are you?”

Kek happened to walk in right when Ryou asked the question. His face lit up like a sinister, living jack-o-lantern.

“Who are we killing? I want to help.”

“I’m afraid murder isn’t part of the plan.” Marik snorted at his former alter. “This is more of a matter of _la petite mort_.”

“Really? I still volunteer my services.” Kek grinned.

Marik raised an eyebrow. “What do you say, Bakura? An extra body might give us an advantage.”

“You can invite every consenting adult in Domino City for all care.” Bakura threw his arms up into the air. “As long as we _win_. By every lousy god that’s ever forsaken me, I will beat that smug, egocentric prick at _something_ before I die this time!”

“This time.” Marik laughed.

“Shut up, drop your pants, grab a camera, and let’s get to business.” Bakura clenched his teeth, looking anything but amorous.

“No. I already told you we need to plan this out. I underestimated Yugi Motou during Battle City, I don’t plan on repeating that mistake.”

“ _What is going on?_ ” Ryou shouted a little. It seemed to be the only way to get either Marik or Bakura to listen when they were in one of their moods.

“Porn contest,” Bakura said as easily as if it’d been an invite to a bridge game.

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“We were playing Duel Monsters, and Atem wouldn’t stop running his mouth, so we’re going to each make a video and some of the female duelists are going to judge the videos and choose a winner.” Bakura took off his shirt.

Ryou’s mouth dropped. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m so fucking serious right now. I can’t beat him in games, so here we are.”

“We need a theme.” Marik pursed his lips.

“Well, knowing Yugi,” Ryou shook his head, unable to believe he was about to encourage them. “He’ll probably have Atem tied up and blindfolded.”

“Big deal. You can chain me instead. This is going to be easy.”

Ryou rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Oh Bakura, you’re so naive.”

“What did you call me?” Bakura hissed.

“Naive. Yugi is the best kinbakushi I’ve ever seen. If you want to beat him, you’re going to have to think of something else to impress your audience.”

Kek laughed. “Like Bakura knows what women find attractive.”

“I know what women find attractive-” he pointed to Marik with one hand, and Ryou with the other.

“Hey, what about me?” Kek frowned.

“What about you?” Bakura smirked.

Ryou sighed and stood up. He closed his book before walking over to Marik.

“You’re the only one I trust to help plan something like this. Do you have any ideas?”

Marik leaned a little closer. “Does that mean you want in on this little home video as well?”

“Well, it’s just a friendly game, right? No one’s getting hurt, there’s no Shadow Magic, and it would be fun to win against Yugi at _something_.”

Marik tapped his foot. “Honestly … I have no idea what to do. Yugi’s got a pharaoh to work with, and we got-” He glanced at Bakura and Kek (who were still scowling at each other).

“Well…” Ryou leaned back on the balls of his feet and rocked forward again. “I have a sort of idea. We can’t beat Yugi when it comes to kink, so maybe we should go in the other direction?”

“What do you mean?” Marik asked.

“Let’s try to make the sweetest, most romantic, vanilla video we can.”

“What?! That’s stupid!” Bakura screamed. “This is porn, not some chick flick!”

“But the judges _are_ female,” Marik reminded him.

“That doesn't mean they don't like good, slutty, hardcore porn.” Bakura crossed his arms over his chest.

“I have an idea,” Kek said.

“We're not doing a snuff film.” Marik shot him a sharp look.

Kek sniffed. “Pity, but that's not quite what I had in mind… let’s do a roleplay.”

 

* * *

 

Marik liked the lights that surrounded him. They had rigged every lamp in the house in order to make a proper set. He caught his reflection in the mirror. A purple cloak and toga draped down his body and gold jewelry glittered from head to foot. He looked like a king, which was the effect they wanted.

He chanted from Ryou's copy of The Necronomicon- after Ryou had assured him several times that Lovecraft wasn't an actual sorcerer. After reading the spell, the light faded and Bakura appeared, wearing red leather and rubies. Marik had done his kohl and applied red stain to his lips, so he almost looked _too_ beautiful as he leaned close and started pawing over Marik.

“Fool.” Bakura laughed as if he had just trapped the Pharaoh into a Shadow Game. “You've just summoned your death.”

“It's my right give you a challenge first.”

“That's right, and when I complete it, your soul belongs to me.”

The smirk on Marik's face was genuine. “Let's see about that.”

He shoved Bakura down onto the bed, using his knees to spread Bakura's legs wide.

“It's a simple challenge, really, don't call out before I come.”

“ _This_ is interesting.” Bakura's laugh returned, ringing through the room. “I accept your challenge.”

“Suck.” Marik crammed his fingers into Bakura's mouth.

Bakura obeyed and Marik used his spit-slick fingers to push into Bakura's ass. He gasped right away, but didn't call out. They hadn't rehearsed this part, both of them agreeing it would be fun to actually make a real challenge out of it.

Marik went straight for Bakura's prostate. He dragged his fingers across it over and over again until Bakura was biting his lower lip to keep from screaming. They had the lube in a brilliant, gleaming bottle made from fuschia-colored glass, giving it a “magic potion” look. After making sure they were both wet with lube, Marik eased in …

So…

So…

Slow.

Bakura’s mouth was a gaping, but regrettably silent, O. He’d been expecting Marik to shove in and try to shock him into screaming. Ryou had been the one to suggest a different approach and Marik was loving what his soft, easy hitches were doing to Bakura’s expression.

“I’ll take all night if I have to.” Marik whispered close to Bakura’s lips. “You’re much lovelier than I expected, and I’m enjoying this immensely.”

Bakura’s face crumpled. He wasn’t used to Marik saying anything close to a compliment. His exhales were loud and desperate, Marik knew he already wanted to come, and scream, but was holding back from both.

Marik kissed Bakura’s red lips and Bakura’s breath caught in his throat. Bakura clawed the toga away from Marik’s body and grabbed at his bare skin. The cloak kept Marik’s back covered, so he allowed Bakura to grope and knead the rest of him. He combed through Bakura’s hair and toyed with the fake horns that were supposed to make him look like an otherworldly creature.

“M-m-mmm-”

“My lord?” Marik interrupted Bakura before he could break character and call out the wrong name. “You may call me that, if you’d like.”

He started kissing Bakura’s neck, still easing in and out. Bakura groaned, but it wasn’t a scream, so it didn’t count. Marik sucked hard against Bakura's neck and gripped his cock.

“My lord!” Bakura screamed.

Marik rewarded him by moving a little faster as he continued to stroke him. Bakura screamed again and wrapped his red, leather boot-clad calves around Marik's waist.

“Oh! Yes! Yes! _Yes_!” Bakura screamed as he came.

Marik waited until Bakura lay limp and relaxed against the mattress. Then he let himself go, slamming hard and quick and groaning himself until he came inside Bakura.

Marik lay on Bakura's chest afterwards, catching his breath. Other than the lines they spoke, they weren't acting much.

“You won,” Bakura said. “I'm bound to you now. You have a year. What do you want of me?”

“I want you to help me win a war.”

 

* * *

 

Kek enjoyed the way the knife felt in his hand. He wore black assassin's garb and silver. He snuck into the bedroom with practiced efficiency and raised his knife-hand above Marik's kidney.

Bakura woke up on his own, as Kek figured he would. Rolling Marik out of the way, Bakura grabbed Kek's knife arm at the wrist and they struggled.

They fought without holding back, biting, scratching, pulling hair. The only acting was when Kek allowed Bakura to take the knife from him and place it against Kek's throat.

“Look what we have here.” Marik leaned close with a grin so sinister that it rivaled one of Kek's own expressions. “Did the King of the West send the crown prince as a present for me?”

“I'm not afraid of death.” Kek closed his eyes, baring his throat to the knife.

“Oh, little prince, I don't want to kill you. I'm going to ransom you back to your father.”

“He won't pay.”

“Last I checked, he didn't have any other children to pass on his legacy.”

Kek snorted. “One doesn't need an heir when one plans to live forever.”

“Vanity isn't a fountain of immortality.”

“But unicorn blood is.” Kek's expression darkened. “I convinced him to wait until I brought your heart - to make the spell more powerful.”

“You lied.” Bakura gave him a nonplussed look. “Why?”

“Who said it was a lie?” Kek asked.

“The spell either works or doesn't. You can't make immortality stronger,” Bakura answered, “but you already knew that.”

“Look.” Kek snarled. “I'll kill 100 men in battle. I'm not afraid of blood, but the unicorn…” he let his real feelings for Ryou color his performance, allowing his face to go soft. “Deserves to live. More so than any of us.”

“You're in love with the creature.” Marik scoffed.

Kek glared at him. “Better than a demon.”

“He has his uses.” Marik tapped his finger against his lips, as if in thought. “How would you like it if you were king?”

“Why should I care?”

“Well, as you said, your role as heir loses a lot of meaning if your father is immortal. What if there were a way to save your unicorn lover and place you on the throne instead?”

“I'm listening.”

“We'll help you rescue the unicorn and place you on the throne. In return, we end the war and sign a peace treaty.”

“A peace treaty that's favorable to you, no doubt.”

“This war has been expensive. I want compensation.” Marik sat in Kek's lap. “But I assure you that I don't plan on being too greedy. I think we'd both profit most as allies. Don't you agree?”

“Fine. I accept your offer.”

“Not so fast.” Bakura licked his lips. “I vowed to help you, and killing the old king to replace him with this prince will accomplish that, but if _he_ wants my help in saving a unicorn, _he_ needs to prove he’s strong enough.” Bakura played with Kek's spikes. “Otherwise I'm taking his soul.”

“So we need to battle?” Kek asked.

“No, he wants you to fuck him into submission,” Marik answered.

Kek laughed, giving “the demon” a lusty gaze but then flicking his eyes over to Marik. “And what will you be doing? Sitting here and watching us?”

Marik, already in his lap, started smoothing his hands across Kek’s chest. He started to unfasten the laces to his top.

“That sounds fun, but I wouldn’t mind joining in.” His eyes shot up to Kek, waiting for an answer.

Kek grabbed Marik’s hair and pulled him closer. They made their kisses intentionally sloppy, making sure the camera could see their tongues twining together. Marik’s fingers worked faster at Kek’s laces. He didn’t care about their scars so he tossed all of his clothes aside without hardly a thought. Marik dropped back into his lap as soon as he was finished and they went back to sucking on each other’s lips and tugging at each other’s hair.

“Hey, what about me?!” Bakura shouted.

They both laughed because it hadn’t been part of the script- simply Bakura getting riled up at the sight of Marik and Kek together. It gave Kek an idea for some improv.

“You sit there like a good pet, and we’ll let you know when you can join.” Kek punctuated the statement by squeezing Marik’s ass with his left hand and twisting Marik’s nipple with his right hand. Marik called out in both pleasure and surprise. He hitched his already growing cock against Kek’s belly.

“That’s bullshit. I’m not a pet.” Bakura growled, scrambling off the bed and going to the chair on which Marik and Kek sat. “And you’re supposed to be fucking me anyway, not him.”

“We’ve got to seal out agreement somehow. What better way that sweat?” Marik grinned before leaning close and biting Kek’s throat.

Bakura yanked Kek’s hair back, pulling him away from Marik’s bites.

“I already called dibs on this human. You can fuck him when I’m done.”

“Now now,” Marik scolding, raising his finger in the air and shaking it as if Bakura was a misbehaving puppy that needed a lecture. “We need to learn how to share if we’re going to all work together. Let’s both fuck him at once.”

Bakura grinned, and Kek gave an honest look of surprise. This, also, was not in the script, but Kek didn’t see why they shouldn’t see where the new storyline would take them. He lifted Marik up and carried him to the bed with Bakura beside them.

Bakura laid down. Kek set Marik down and adjusted the cloak so that it still covered his back.

“As a sign of good faith between our kingdoms…” Marik got down in his knees and took Kek into his mouth. Kek's mouth dropped and he was glad he was in stage make-up because he was blushing.

A glance over to the bed showed Bakura with his mouth dropped open and his eyes huge. They were definitely fantasy role-playing now, because Marik would _never_ get on his knees for Kek on a normal evening. He hoped Ryou- who was controlling several cameras via laptop- was catching everything because Kek wanted to watch this scene again from more than one angle.

Kek's eyes lidded and his breath puffed out of his mouth. He couldn't help but lean into Marik's mouth, surprised at how good Marik was at sucking dick.

“Dammit, quit hogging the prince.” Bakura pouted, his cheeks pink from simply watching.

“Bed,” Marik ordered as he pulled back.

Kek’s legs wobbled as he stumbled to the bed. Bakura and Marik both went for Kek's cock at once. The licked up and down his shaft and French kissed right above the tip.

“P-please,” Kek heard himself asking in an embarrassingly soft voice.

“Manners are important in a ruler.” Marik laughed. “I suppose we should indulge him, don't you think so, demon?”

“Humans talk to much.” Bakura grabbed the glass bottle of lube.

They each stuck a finger inside Kek. He squirmed as they prepped him.

“I'm ready.”

“Shut up, we're still toying with you, human.” Bakura’s grin was smug.

“Fuck me right now or I will tear into your demon-ass _so hard_ that you'll be crying out to the gods.”

“I'd like to see you try,” Bakura sneered.

“Get on your back.” Marik tapped Bakura’s shoulder.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Technically I can tell you what to do for an entire year.”

Bakura swore under his breath as he lay on his back. Kek crawled on top of him and bit Bakura’s neck, hard. Bakura screamed in a mix of aggravation and ecstasy as Kek continued to give him bites that were just a _little_ too hard all the way down his neck and across his chest. To compensate for the biting, Kek lowered himself down on Bakura’s cock and started to rock their bodies together. Bakura moaned as his fingers found their way into the nest of Kek’s hair.

Marik joined in half a moment later, cape spread about him in a puddle of cloth on the mattress. He pushed inside at the same time as Bakura and Kek lost his breath. He braced himself against Bakura’s body as they all moved. The three of them had the grace of a cart with a broken wheel, but Kek cried out for more all the same. The bed squeaked, which was nothing new, but then there was a snap and the lower half of the bed sank downward.

“Dammit,” Marik pulled out as he tried to readjust to the awkward angle. “This is the third time!”

“Don’t stop!” Bakura wailed, too lost in the moment to care about the bed.

Kek adjusted, pulling up off Bakura and getting the lube so he could shove inside him instead.

“Yes!” Bakura wrapped his legs around Kek’s lower back.

It was a little like taking someone against the wall, but easier because there was a slope. Kek dug his heels into the pile of blankets that slid to the floor when the bed broke so he had enough leverage to thrust like a savage into Bakura’s body.

“You’re going to break the other side.” Marik stood behind Kek, leaning against the footboard that still stood. It must have been one of the bottom supports keeping the mattress balanced in the frame that broke.

“You’re a king- buy another bed!” Kek laughed as he slammed into Bakura hard enough that he thought they _might_ break one of the other support planks.

“Fine,” Marik snapped and Kek felt Marik’s cock slipping back into his body.

Kek clawed at the mattress, having trouble focusing as Marik filled him and Bakura surrounded him. He couldn’t think about anything, only follow the ravenous urge to move fast until both he and Bakura were screaming in union. After his orgasm, Kek leaned heavily against Bakura, unable to fully support himself.

Another snap and the bed leveled out again- this time flush with the ground. They shrieked in surprise as they fell, but that didn’t stop Marik from pushing in and out of Kek’s ass once they settled back into a stable position.

“I told you!” Marik shouted.

“No one cares about your bed, my lord.” Bakura smirked, peeking out from the mess of Kek’s hair to give Marik a haughty look.

Bakura’s snark only fueled Marik’s thrusts, and Kek could only groan as Marik pounded into his ass. Then, with a barbaric grunt, Marik grabbed Kek’s shoulders so he could move even faster and came, shouting curses at both Kek and Bakura.

Ryou walked into the room laughing.

“I thought the broken bed was a nice touch. You guys are horrible at following the script though.”

“As long as we stay in character, we’re fine,” Kek shrugged. He patted the mattress beside Ryou. “Come here.”

“Well, the bed can’t get into worse shape, so I don’t see why not.” Ryou smiled as he slipped in between Bakura and Kek.

Both Marik and Bakura were already falling back asleep, exhausted from two sessions at once, but Kek kissed the side of Ryou’s neck- much softer than he had with Bakura- and slipped his hand down the front of Ryou’s pants, squeezing Ryou’s cock.

“Did watching that turn you on?” Kek asked into Ryou’s hair.

“Mmm-hmmm.” Ryou hummed, hitching into Kek’s hand.

“Then just think about how fun the final scene will be.” Kek grinned, stroking Ryou until he came over Kek’s hand.

With Ryou sated enough for a nap, they all pressed together on the broken bed and slept with their legs and arms tangled together. Those moments were always Kek’s favorite. There was something euphoric about Marik relaxed and pressed against Kek’s back, especially with Bakura and Ryou spooning in front of him like a mirror image of himself and Marik.

 

* * *

 

They shot several more scenes, converting the hallway into an enchanted forest where the others had to battle, and the living room into a mock castle. Kek and Ryou had a flashback scene where they first met and Kek vowed to go on a quest to free Ryou.

Now it was time for the grand finale and Ryou knelt in a pretend dungeon with pretend manacles binding his ankles and wrists. He wore a translucent shenti and had opals woven into his hair and accenting every curve of his body. Instead of a horn, they’d drawn a glittering gold spiral on Ryou’s forehead.

Marik, Bakura, and Kek burst into the room with bloodied swords. Kek grinned, a huge key in his hands. He knelt in front of Ryou, unlocking the manacles and rubbing Ryou’s wrists.

“You’ve saved me.”

“I swore it to you that night.”

Ryou smiled, running his fingers through Kek’s hair. “I didn’t think you would, though. I laid with you that night because I wanted to feel warmth one last time before I was killed.”

“I would die before I let someone hurt you.” Kek kissed Ryou.

They took their time, kissing and caressing as if it were any other day and there were no cameras. From above them, Ryou heard Marik and Bakura say their lines.

“It’s been a year. I suppose you’re free now.”

“That means I can do whatever I want now.” Bakura snorted.

“Yes. It does,” Marik said.

He heard their breath muffled as they kissed. Soon they were on the ground beside Ryou and Kek. Marik pinned Bakura’s wrists up over his head as he sucked on his lips.

“Who are they?” Ryou asked.

“My allies. They helped me free you.”

“You’re a demon,” Ryou said, looking at Bakura.

“And you’re a holy creature,” Bakura replied. “I wonder if it’d hurt … if we kissed.”

Ryou smiled, leaning down. “There’s only one way to find out.”

His lips graced against Bakura’s and his fingers caressed Marik and Kek’s thighs. He felt hands caressing him back- Kek’s rough and calloused from lifting weights, Marik’s as warm as Kek’s but smooth and lotioned, and Bakura’s hands which were always cold. He lifted his head up, kissing Marik and then Kek, and then he tilted his head as Bakura kneaded his lips against Ryou’s neck.

They had a pallet set up on the floor made to look like a bed of straw from the dungeon. After the bed incident, they all agreed it’d be better to shoot the last scene on the floor. Marik ran his hands beneath the shenti and up Ryou’s thighs as Bakura continued to kiss his neck. Ryou gave them a soft, rewarding cry. Kek was chest level to Ryou’s mouth, so Ryou nibbled against the hard nub of Kek’s nipple.

Ryou’s right hand tangled into Bakura’s hair while the other encouraged Marik’s hands to explore higher. He started twirling his tongue around Kek’s chest, only stopping when Kek stooped lower to kiss him. They continued to touch and lick each other until they were all sweating, panting, twitching. Bakura begged outright more than once, but it wasn’t until he started bucking against them in sheer desperation that Marik pulled Bakura into his lap and started to prep him. They all pre-lubed to make it easier to start. Kek went and fetched their “magic bottle” so they could add more to their cocks.

Marik and Ryou sat side by side but facing opposite directions. Bakura sat in Marik’s lap while Kek sat in Ryou’s and they reached out and stroked each other as they bounced themselves up and down. After Bakura came, Marik lay him down and Kek pulled away from Ryou to he could slip into Bakura’s relaxed form. Ryou lay down as well, letting Marik enter him and rock back and forth.

Marik accidentally pulled several opals away from Ryou’s bicep as he got close. He came with a soft whine, and then curled on hands and knees, cloak still covering his back, and Kek switched from Bakura to Marik, slamming into Marik’s backside with loud slaps and making Marik call out with each thrust.

Ryou watched both Mariks together for a moment before scooting out from beneath Marik. He felt Bakura’s hand slide across his shoulders, and Ryou turned to kiss him. Bakura pressed Ryou against the floor and sat on his cock, riding him and making the rubies flash in the lamp light as he moved.

He heard Kek call out in orgasm, and a moment later, Kek appeared in Ryou’s line of vision. He bent down and kissed him, even as Marik straddled Ryou’s belly so he could face Bakura. With Ryou kissing Kek, and Marik kissing Bakura, and Bakura riding Ryou, Ryou couldn’t hold out, coming for well over a minute before his body went slack.

He felt Kek pick him up and carry him to the “throne room.” Marik and Kek sat side by side on the mock throne with Ryou curled up in their laps and Bakura sitting on the arm closest to Marik with his feet slung behind Ryou. Marik declared the kingdom theirs, but Ryou was too warm and comfortable curled up beside everyone to care that they were imaginary kings of the land.

 

* * *

 

Bakura sat with his arms crossed over his chest. He’d never admit it, but shooting their campy, ridiculous romance fantasy had been far more fun than it should have been. He was still angry, however, because they were obviously going to lose the contest.

They pre-screened each other’s videos in advance. Theirs was obviously green-screened and edited on Ryou’s laptop, while Yugi’s video was not only professional porn quality, but arguably professional movie quality. The bastards must have gotten Kaiba to let them borrow a studio to shoot in. Their soundtrack was also raunchy and perfect while Bakura, Marik, Kek, and Ryou had just picked songs that reminded them of the characters in the story- which ended up making their playlist far too romantic. How the hell did they think “Shatter Me” was a good intro song for a porn flick?

Now they sat in Yugi’s living room while their panel of judges crowded in the den to watch both submissions. By the smug look on Atem’s face Bakura knew that he knew that he’d win _yet again_ , and it was all Bakura could do not to lunge at him and claw out his eyes.

Yugi and Ryou sat side by side, chatting excitedly about what they liked about each video. Bakura snorted. He didn’t need Yugi’s pity. He knew their video was a sappy joke. Once the editing had been finished, the kissing scenes were actually _longer_ than the sex scenes, and more than once Bakura had to turn away because - despite his best efforts to play the trickster demon archetype- his affection for Marik had been so blatant on his face that he knew they’d never let him live it down.

From the side room they heard excited noise. Bakura wondered what part of Yugi’s video had the girls so worked up. He sunk a little deeper into the sofa and hated life. Why did he keep competing? They were never going to win at anything, so why try?

A few minutes later they were swarmed by female duelists asking ridiculous questions.

“Do they all stay together at the end? Or do they have to go back to their own kingdoms?”

“Of course they stay together,” Kek answered like a candid fool. “They merge their kingdoms because they're more powerful together than separate.”

“But what happens when the two kings grow old? Do they die?”

“Don’t worry.” Ryou grinned. “The evil king understood the spell wrong. He didn’t need a unicorn’s heart to be immortal- it was a unicorn’s love. So they all live forever. Eventually they pass the kingdom on to a new set of heroes and go adventuring across the world.”

Bakura rolled his eyes. Ryou _would_ have an epilogue already outlined in his head. He waited for them to start laughing, or talking about the other video, but they kept asking foolish questions. Bakura found himself answering questions about his demon character. What was the infernal realm like? Did he get into trouble for abandoning his duties as a demon? Bakura found himself making up stories about the demon king sending troops up from the abyss to try and drag Bakura back, and how they others raided the Underworld itself in order to save him.

And they ate up every ridiculous line. Bakura didn’t understand why they even cared. It was just a story.

But the next thing he knew, Ryou was organizing an rpg night where they’d all get together and play a Monster World campaign from the same universe.

“But who won the contest?” Atem asked, and Bakura was glad that _he_ asked, because Bakura was ready to scream at the stupid girls to stop stalling.

“Your video was gorgeous,” Anzu said to Yugi and Atem. She’d become the sort of leader among the other duelist judges. “But … I’m really sorry, but the other video was just so amazing!”

“I cried right before the end!” Another girl shouted.

“Me too!”

“I teared up,” Anzu confessed. “I was just so _happy_ for them. I mean sexy is good, but nothing’s better than a story with a happy ending.”

“Wait … are you saying we won?” Bakura asked.

“Of course. Will you make a sequel showing how the others rescue you from hell?”

Bakura fell out of his fucking chair.


	57. tumblr prompt/ Atem x Marik x TKB

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this was a drabble that I wrote on tumblr. Someone commissioned me to expand it, so I'm archiving the original here so people can refer to see then I post the matching short story.

Bakura lounged against the arm of the sofa, flicking tv channels with his remote and gazing at the television screen with boredom dulling his opal-colored eyes. He noticed the once-pharaoh enter the living room and go straight for the couch, and he didn’t even complain when Atem stretched out and used Bakura’s lap as a pillow. **  
**

Things were still a little uneasy between them, but they’d forged a strange sort of truce in sweat, and come, and middle-of-the-night bedroom groans. There was a very specific horror, and despair, that came with being a 3,000 year old spirit once again trapped in a prison of flesh instead of a prison of gold, and since they were the only two that understood this, they found themselves drawn together in a way that superseded their mutual hatred.

And that Marik put up with them, was all Bakura knew of grace.

“Bakura,” Atem sang with a lilt in his words.

“You want something.” Bakura snorted. “You always use that tone when you want something.”

“I want you to cut me.”

“Kinky. Didn’t know you were into knife play.”

“I want you to carve your and Marik’s stories into my back.”

“Are you fucking stupid?” Bakura dropped the remote, staring down into Atem’s purple satin eyes.

“I can’t bare it any longer.” Tears made the purple irises gleam as if the gods had somehow left amethysts out in the rain. “I can’t. Marik has to carry my memories around for the rest of his life. He fucks me face down so I don’t see, but I still know they’re there. So if he has to carry my memories- I should carry both of yours.”

Bakura looked away.

“Idiot. I just got used to the idea of not cutting you up with a knife.”

“You’re the only person strong enough to do it. I would go to the Tomb Keepers, but they’d never harm The Pharaoh.” A bitter, rueful snort left Atem’s mouth. “I’m not a pharaoh. I barely manage as a person without Yugi.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling.”

Perhaps they’d searched for their old hosts when they returned. And perhaps they’d found them living happily together. And perhaps that’s what gave them the idea of starting their own fucked up relationship. It’s like they couldn’t help it, being dark, twisted mirror images of their more tender counterparts. At first they’re been screaming and fighting, maybe a few blows from time to time, but then Marik had realized they were back and came to check on them. Once he realized what was going on between them, he had no problem inviting himself into their relationship and taking charge of it. He added a strange method to their madness, and they were awful about both following his orders and indulging his whims.

“Will you help me?”

“Did you even ask Marik to see if he wanted his memories carved into your back?”

“No one asked me if I wanted mine carved into his.”

“And you’re not happy that it happened.”

“Please Bakura.” Atem sat up. “I feel like I have to do this. I feel like this is the only way I can begin to aton-”

“Stop.” Bakura shook his head. “I’m not the stupid little Egyptian thief I was all those years ago, and you’re not Horus. You were a kid, like me, when the Items-”

“I should have listened to you. I should have asked you to take me to Kul Elna to see for myself. I should have-”

“And I shouldn’t have dragged your father’s corpse into the palace. Fuck. The whole thing was fucked. I just want to watch tv and try to forget that we were ever alive that long ago.”

“But you can’t. I know you can’t forget. I think about it all the time, and so do you.”

“And scars will help you forget?”

“No, but keeping your tragedies with me will help me live with myself.”

“Fine.” Bakura clenched his hands into fists. “Fine. I’ll do it, but don’t cry to me if Marik peels your back clean with a vegetable peeler if he doesn’t like it.”

Atem rested his hand on top of Bakura’s fist. “Thank you.”

***

Marik came home, tossed his motorcycle keys on the little end table near the door, and set his helmet on a hook in the coat closet.

“I’m back!” He shouted.

When no one answered, Marik went to investigate the appartment. He saw Bakrua walking out of the bedroom. He was trying to clean blood off of a dagger, his eyes round with shock.

“Marik, you’re back early.”

“Bakura, did you kill him?” Marik frowned. “You shouldn't have killed him.”

“Got attached did you?”  
  


“I thought you were, too.”

“I didn’t kill him,” Bakura said, stowing the knife. “Although you might kill us both when you see what I did do.”

Marik pushed past Bakura and into the spare room they’d turned into a gaming room. He saw Atem, laying on his belly on a ping-pong table, wrapped in bandages. Atem didn’t see Marik; he was busy weeping against the table. Blood seeped through the bandages and the smell of lemon juice and salt was familiar and nauseating.

Marik’s mouth dropped open in a scream he couldn’t quite force out of his lungs. He stumbled backwards until he hit the hallway wall.

“Why?” He asked Bakura. “Why?”

“He asked me to.”

“Why!”

Bakura closed his eyes and sighed. “There’s two columns, one has the history of Kul Elna, and the other has the history of the Tomb Keepers.”

“But why!” Marik shrieked, pounding his fists against Bakura’s chest. “Why! Why! Why!”

Bakura grabbed Marik’s wrists and pulled them together.

“Because he needed to,” Bakura whispered. “He can’t make things right and he can’t handle it, and he needed to do something to feel like he was trying.”

“How could you,” Marik weeped. “How could you hurt him like that? You should have killed him instead.”

“I did it because I know how much it hurts, not to be able to change things, and how much you want to do something and can’t- and he wanted it done.”

“Marik.” Atem’s voice carried from the gameroom into the hallway.

Marik lifted up his head, staring at the doorway for a moment. He gripped Bakura’s hand and dragged him into the room with him, not quite capable of going in alone. Once inside, he knelt in front of Atem and ran his fingers through Atem’s hair.

“You don’t have to do this. We’re going to get you to a hospital, and have them see if there’s anything the doctors can-”

“Please, Marik, no,” Atem begged. “I’m sorry. Bakura said I should ask you first, but I had to. I had to.”

“No, no you don’t. It doesn’t help anything you fucking idiot.”

“It will help me sleep at night.”

“It’s not fair.” Marik’s tears returned. Bakura crouched behind him and pressed against Marik back, as if he knew Marik needed Bakura’s gentle warmth right there, where his scars seemed to burn just from the smell of the scarification ritual.

“For you. It wasn’t fair for you.”

“I’m fine!” Marik screamed.

“Then why won’t you look at me in bed?”

“What?”

“In bed, you never…” Atem lowered his gaze. “You look at Bakura, but you always make sure I’m turned away.”

Then Marik realized his part in Atem’s self punishment. At the beginning, the very beginning, the whole affair was a power trip- thief and king both at once, but even after his heart soften towards them, Bakura first and then Atem, Marik still felt conscious about The Pharaoh seeing those old wounds on his back.

“Atem,” Marik sighed, pressing their foreheads together. “You idiot. You’re both idiots. We’re all idiots.”

***

Atem’s back healed well with Bakura and Marik both tending to him. Marik didn’t force him to go to the doctor and allowed Bakura to continue to agitate the cuts with lemon juice and further cutting in order to ensure the markings scared over just as Marik’s had. There were no pictures, no art, Atem didn’t want the marking to be beautiful. Two simple columns with heretic explaining two tragic histories, that’s what Atem had wanted.  

Atem stood in the kitchen fixing three cups of chai when Bakura entered with a cocky grin on his face- and only the grin. The rest of his deep cinnamon colored body was nude and begging to be stared at.

“Don’t give me that look. The tea will get cold.”

“Not my problem.” Bakura scooped Atem up in his arms and carried him out of the kitchen.

“What the hell Bakura?”

“Marik wants you in the bedroom. He said now.”

In their shared bedroom Marik knelt on the bed, facing the headboard, back exposed for both Atem and Bakura to see. Marik glanced over his shoulder; the gold at his throat flashing in the bedroom light.

“Strip.”

Bakura set Atem down and helped Atem out of his clothes. Atem’s face flushed, he was still conscious about his own back, the scars were new, angry, and red although they were set scars now and no longer cuts.

“Come here,” Marik commanded, and Atem, a former king, obeyed.

He crawled onto the mattress as close to Marik as he dared get. Marik reached back and pulled Atem’s arms until they wrapped around Marik’s body.

“It’s okay,” Marik said. “Get as close as you like.”

Atem inched forward until his chest pressed against Marik’s mangled back. He rested his head against Marik’s shoulder blade and sighed, relaxing as the warmth passed between their two bodies. Atem felt Bakura slip behind him, holding Atem just as Atem held Marik. Atem felt like he was melting as he felt himself pressed between both their bodies at once.

“No more pain, okay?” Marik said in a low, sincere voice. “We’ve had enough. We’ve all had enough. There’s no use measuring it, or trying to balance the scales with more pain. From now on…”

It was Bakura that finished the sentence. Atem suspected they’d planned this moment for quite some time, waiting on Atem to heal before they ensnared him in their trap.

“We atone like this.” Bakura kissed the nape of Atem’s neck, sending a shiver down Atem’s spine and making his heart race.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Immorientio](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11153853) by [Ninjam117](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninjam117/pseuds/Ninjam117)
  * [Bring Me to Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11437470) by [Ninjam117](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninjam117/pseuds/Ninjam117)
  * [Anzu’s Dilemma](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12400410) by [ThatRandomFan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRandomFan/pseuds/ThatRandomFan)




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